


peaches and cream

by stellalunar



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: College, Crude (?) Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hwang Hyunjin is a Sweetheart, M/M, Sick Character, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, jisung just wants to understand what's happening, much figuring out of feelings, not actually crude just light talk, wooj just ends up being sick of everyone's shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-06-25 07:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19741339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellalunar/pseuds/stellalunar
Summary: Jisung truly doesn't mean to spend his Friday night holding someone else's sopping clothes in the laundry room of the dorm building while said someone else stares at him with an expression that's a mix of amusement, confusion, and pity.But here he is, standing in the laundry room of the dorm building, holding the sopping wet clothes of a very amused college student who's valiantly giving his best effort not to straight-up laugh at Jisung.-Or, in which Jisung's dumb, sleep-deprived self accidentally steals Minho's clothes and then Minho shows up at Jisung's door with an impish grin and a needed favor and accidental feelings ensue.





	peaches and cream

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up, I know nothing about anything in this story and I probably messed up the timeline somewhere.  
> edit: checking for typos and shit ignore me

Jisung truly doesn't mean to spend his Friday night holding someone else's sopping clothes in the laundry room of the dorm building while said someone else stares at him with an expression that's a mix of amusement, confusion, and pity. 

But here he is, standing in the laundry room of the dorm building, holding the sopping wet clothes of a very amused college student who's valiantly giving his best effort not to straight up laugh at Jisung. 

"These aren't my clothes, are they?" Jisung says finally, blinking down at the offending material that are still dripping trails of water onto his shoes. 

The boy, who most definitely owns the clothes Jisung is holding because he already knows they aren't his own, shakes his head slowly with the hint of an amused smile twisting at the edges of his lips. 

Jisung closes his eyes for a few seconds before opening them to look down at the neon pink highlighter sweater on top of the soaking pile in his arms.

"These wouldn't be your clothes, would they?" Jisung asks, his voice dropping to barely a whisper because he's using every last shred of his brain power to make himself believe that he isn't standing here with someone else's laundry in his arms. 

The boy nods, the smile more apparent on his lips now and the hand resting on his hip tapping out a pattern as he waits. 

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, balls his hands into fists, and digs his nails into his palms hard. Maybe he's dreaming. 

He isn't. Because when he opens his eyes, the clothes that are very not his are still spilling water onto the ground and the college student across from him is still trying not to laugh at Jisung's predicament. 

Jisung takes a deep breath. "Would you mind closing your eyes for a second?" He asks sweetly, offering the stranger his best I'm-Not-Crazy smile and fluttering his eyelashes. 

The stranger, to Jisung's surprise, nods and closes his eyes obediently. 

Jisung, for a brief second, wonders whether it would have been more effective to tell the boy to plug his ears instead. And then he spends the next thirty seconds punching the shit out of the pile of clothes in his arms while mumbling every profanity he'd ever added to his very large swear word vocabulary at them. And then he takes another deep breath, paints on another charming smile, and opens his eyes. 

"I'm gonna turn around," Jisung says sweetly, and the stranger flicks his eyes open, "and I'm gonna put these back in there, and we're going to pretend that you never saw me, I never touched your clothes, and this never happened. Capiche?" 

"Sure, but," the boy is trying his very best not to laugh, but he can barely talk with how much he's shaking, "there's a tiny, tiny issue with that." 

Jisung feels dread roping around his bones and he doesn't dare turn around when the boy points behind him, muffling his laughter into his sleeves. 

"You, uh, you kinda--" 

Jisung saves the boy the trouble and spins around slowly. 

The machine door is locked. The little green sign above the row of washing machines has turned red, because in the time Jisung had taken being humiliated beyond belief, the clock had hit two, and the stupid, stupid dorm policy that no one is allowed to wash their clothes after 2 AM to save water comes banging back in Jisung's brain. 

Jisung turns back around to find the boy doubled over, no longer even attempting to hold back the fact that he finds this entire predicament hilarious. Jisung, on the other hand, is burning up in embarrassment--he's pretty sure he's the human embodiment of every red fruit that ever existed combined together. He'd just wanted to wash his clothes and go to sleep, but here he is now, with a whole stranger's load of laundry soaking his shirt and his own laundry locked in the machines until nine in the morning. 

Fuck the dorm and its stupid water saving policies. 

"I am going to yeet myself off of Mount Everest," Jisung mutters--he can't even hide his face in his hands because they're fucking preoccupied holding this random dude's laundry. 

So it is at precisely 2:07 AM in the middle of the dorm's laundry room that Jisung decides he and the universe are arch enemies. 

And so Jisung stands there, cheeks hotter than lava and a burning behind his eyelids that is _not_ tears, he just wants to _sleep_ \--all the while in the presence of a complete stranger college student, who's laughed himself to the point of tears and is now wiping under his eyes while still giggling. 

"I'm fine," the boy gasps finally, hands on his knees, "I'm good, I'm fine--" 

"I want Squidward to wrap his tentacles around me and strangle me until I die a painful death of suffocation--" Jisung groans--why the fuck is he still holding the goddamn laundry, he swears that stupid highlighter neon pink sweater is mocking him for being this stupid-- 

"Huh, that's a new one," Laundry Boy looks thoughtful, "but it's not like my Peter Rabbit fantasies are any better, so no worries, man." 

Jisung chokes on his own saliva, and Laundry Boy starts giggling again. It's not helping Jisung's case that Laundry Boy is stupidly attractive with his wire-rimmed glasses nearly falling off his nose as he laughs harder, and his stupid eyes curling into crescent moons all over again. 

" _Joke_ , that was," Laundry Boy breathes out, done laughing, "that was a joke, I swear I'm not insane--" 

Jisung blinks once, twice, and three times at Laundry Boy before he looks down at the clothes, back at Laundry Boy, and down at the clothes again. 

"I am _absolutely_ going to kill myself." 

"Or," Laundry Boy sobers up, "how about you hand me those, I take them home, and we forget this ever happened?" 

Jisung squeezes his eyes shut and thrusts the clothes out, waiting for Laundry Boy to take them wordlessly. He doesn't open his eyes until Laundry Boy's footsteps disappear and the sweet little bell in the doorway jingles merrily, signaling that he's left the vicinity. And then he drops against the locked machines, his top half and his shoes soaked, evaluating his entire life existence and wonder what on earth he's done to piss the universe off this much. 

\- 

"I want those nasty little shadow things from Lord of the Rings to come eat my soul or whatever so I can end my suffering," Jisung moans, flopping down on Hyunjin's lap and throwing an arm over his eyes. 

Hyunjin doesn't bat an eye, just lifts his book higher so he isn't smushing Jisung's face and shakes his head solemnly. 

"You disgust me," he comments offhandedly, dog-earing the page he'd been on and reaching for his phone instead. "They're called _Nazgûl_ , you heathen. And they don't suck your soul, those are dementors." 

"I don't give a flying fuck," Jisung rolls over, jabbing Hyunjin in the stomach with his elbow and earning himself a guttural groan. "I'm mourning." 

Hyunjin sighs heavily, scrolling through his Instagram feed as he talks. "So your stupid sleep deprived self accidentally took some random dude's laundry. It's an honest mistake, I really don't see the big deal--" 

"Hyunjin!" Jisung moans louder, bringing his hands up to cover his face. "I wanted to rip my soul out and watch it shrivel up and die, it was so fucking embarrassing!" 

"I think you need to see a doctor," Hyunjin says, "because you and your soul clearly aren't in a very healthy relationship." 

"Hyunjin I swear on my life--" 

"Jisung, you're probably never gonna see the guy again in your life. Why is it such a big deal if you made a fool out of yourself in front of him?" Hyunjin groans, finally putting his phone down and tapping Jisung's thighs lightly. "Move, I'm hungry." 

Jisung obliges, rolling off of Hyunjin's lap and landing on the floor with a thud and an 'ouch.' Hyunjin only looks mildly concerned as he steps over Jisung's withering remains and enters the cramped kitchen to look for scraps of leftover food. 

"And besides, it isn't like you aren't being a dumbass every other day," Hyunjin adds from the kitchen. "Half the campus knows you as the clown who tripped over the library stairs and knocked that professor's coffee all over her." 

Jisung groans, shuddering at the memory. "Don't remind me. I still have nightmares." 

"See? The laundry thing isn't nearly as bad. Though it is really funny, and I'm gonna be using this as my story of the week, so thank you!" Hyunjin chirps. He steps back into the living room and kicks Jisung's feet before plopping down cross-legged on the floor next to him. He's scrounged something up in the fridge, and he's shoving it in his mouth ravenously like he hasn't eaten in four days. 

"Thank you for caring so much about my pain and suffering," Jisung glares daggers at Hyunjin, who shrugs and stuffs his cheeks with more food. Jisung sighs and flops over like a starfish again. Maybe he should drop out of college and do animal impressions instead. At least that way he'd be sure never to see Laundry Boy again. 

"I really don't get why you're so hung up over this. Why--" Hyunjin stops short, realization dawning on his face. Jisung sits up fast, genuinely afraid as to the conclusion Hyunjin has come to. Hyunjin looks like he understands way too much, and in Hyunjin's case that's never, ever a good thing. 

"Oh my _God_ , you stole clothes from a _peach_!" Hyunjin yells. 

Jisung flushes tomato red again and hides his face in Hyunjin's baggy shirt, letting out a long suffering groan. "Please shut up." 

"Holy shit, this is the best thing I've heard all week!" Hyunjin crows, his eyes sparkling with mischief and him being way too happy at the prospect of Jisung's absolute suffering. 

Peach had become Jisung and Hyunjin's name for pretty guys about four years ago. They'd come across the most beautiful man either of them had ever seen on the street one day, and Hyunjin, unable to form the words 'pretty' or 'bitch', had stuttered out some mix of the two that had evolved into something that sounded like peach. And it stuck. 

Pity neither of them had ever seen the original peach again. He'd truly been the most gorgeous human either of them had ever laid eyes on. 

"Leave me alone!" Jisung flails in Hyunjin's general direction, grinning when a particularly specific hand comes in contact with Hyunjin's chin and he gets an annoyed yelp. 

Hyunjin doesn't stop there though. The rest of the night Jisung is bombarded by fifteen hundred questions on the exact ranking of Laundry Boy on the peach scale, and he regrets both choosing Hyunjin as a roommate again and ever deciding it was a good idea to let Hyunjin know that he'd accidentally stolen clothes from, yes, a peach. 

\- 

The realization that Jisung could accidentally cross paths with Laundry Boy at any given point and time on campus is absolutely terrifying. Jisung actually has half a mind to wear a paper bag over his head for the rest of his life, but he doesn't think he can stand Hyunjin's cackling for a day longer. 

So, naturally, Jisung takes the better option--he plays hide-and-seek with trees, tall people (read: Hyunjin), and any object that is the slightest bit bigger than him that he can duck behind. Two weeks later, he's pretty sure he knows every hiding place on campus better than he knows the demonstration he needs to perform on modern art. 

And he avoids the laundry room of the dorm like the plague before he realizes that because this boy had been in the dorm's laundry room, it obviously means he lives somewhere inside the dorm. Which means Jisung's chances of running into him while wandering the dorm are heightened and amplified. 

And so passionately, Jisung tells Hyunjin that they need to move out of the dorm as soon as possible, to which Hyunjin responds by socking Jisung in the chest and calling him delusional. And Hyunjin may be tall and gangly and more limbs than actual body, but the kid can pack a punch that leaves Jisung reeling backwards into the wall and probably with a couple of fractured ribs. 

Still, Jisung doesn't come across Laundry Boy. 

Doesn't even catch a glimpse of him. Doesn't see anything related to him. Believe him, Jisung keeps his eyes peeled for that ugly neon pink highlighter sweater, and to no avail. He sees a few striped shirts that could possibly be the ones from the boy's laundry, but Jisung analyzes those in detail and turns up safe each time. 

Maybe the universe doesn't hate him completely, or maybe Jisung saved someone's life in an alternate world, or maybe Jisung's just a saint and the devil's spawn has left him alone for a while. Either way, he can disregard the fact that he called the universe his arch enemy. They can be friends again. 

"Jisungie!" 

"No!" Jisung calls back, his voice echoing through the dorm. He scribbles down something on his notebook in chicken-scratch handwriting, even though in reality he absolutely has got zero idea what he's writing. He's sure it's important since it's bulleted straight from the textbook, but he'll be damned if he knows what it says. 

"I didn't even ask yet!" Hyunjin pops up in the bedroom doorway, already pouting. Jisung sighs, grits his teeth, and puts down his pencil. 

"Whatever you're going to ask, no. If you want me to get up, no. If my pencil is being too loud, no. If you're bored because your ass procrastinates everything you have to do, absolutely fuck to the no." 

Hyunjin's pout deepens, and his eyes go all wide and shiny like they do when he's sad. "But Jisungie," he starts, and Jisung inhales and exhales deeply. 

"No 'but Jisungie'. Jisungie is going to fail his classes if he doesn't finish this assignment. Hyunjin should leave Jisungie alone so his parents don't murder him in his sleep for failing Expos." 

"But I'm hungry," Hyunjin says sadly, looking way too remorseful for the statement that's just come out of his mouth. 

"So go eat something," Jisung deadpans, turning back to his textbook. 

"We don't have any food. I forgot it was my week to buy shit." 

"So go buy something from out." 

"I don't wanna walk all by myself--" 

"Hwang Hyunjin I swear on my mother's entire existence--" Jisung grinds his teeth together, digging his nails into his palms. 

"I swear it'll only take twenty minutes," Hyunjin whines, crossing his arms and blinking fast, "Promise. I look like an awkward idiot when I walk places by myself." 

"You look like an awkward idiot always." 

Somehow, Hyunjin's pout, baby talk, and constant coaxing gets Jisung out of his chair and into a pair of shoes. That, and his promise to buy Jisung whatever he wants from the menu. And, just to spite Hyunjin, Jisung plans on ordering the most expensive thing on there. Sure, he won't stop hearing about it for the next eighteen days, but that's a problem for Future Jisung. 

"Why," Jisung says once he realizes which direction they're going in, "are we walking to the other side of campus, Hyunjin?" 

Hyunjin walks faster, his grip on Jisung's wrist tightening. "Because, uh, they have better. Coffee. Sizes." 

Jisung stops, rooting his feet to the ground and causing Hyunjin to lunge forward a bit as he skids to a sudden stop. "The cafe that way sells bigger coffees, Hyunjin." 

Hyunjin seems to panic, his eyes flitting around and pointedly avoiding Jisung's own. "The--" 

"At a lower price, Hyunjin," Jisung says slowly, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes before realization suddenly dawns on him. 

"Oh my _God_ , _you're_ trying to drag me with you so you can see _Freckles_ again!" 

Jisung watches Hyunjin's cheeks turn beet red as he pointedly tries to deny Jisung's accusation. To no avail, because there's absolutely no denying that Jisung's in the right here, but he makes a noble effort to try. 

"I am not!" 

"You absolute wormhead, I cannot believe you dragged me all the way out here just so you could go make googoo eyes at your boy toy," Jisung pinches the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. 

Watching Hyunjin get embarrassed probably beats about half of the Disney movies Jisung's ever watched on the entertainment list. Because he's so tall and gangly, he ends up having no idea what the heck to do with his limbs, and so he ends up flailing them around like an octopus while simultaneously heating up and flushing over till he looks like a sunburnt tomato. 

(Hyunjin will deny it if anyone ever confronts him about it, but Jisung's got good blackmail material on him to make up for the kitten incident.) 

"Just shut up and walk," Hyunjin grumbles, tugging Jisung's wrist harder. At the end of the day, Jisung will end up going with him, whether willingly or not because it's just a fact that Hyunjin is a heck lot stronger than him. 

"I can't believe I'm letting you abuse my friendship like this. I should revoke your friendship card," Jisung complains as he's forced to make the very long, strenuous journey across campus with Hyunjin. 

"Bold of you to assume I ever wanted your friendship card," Hyunjin says smoothly, checking to make sure the walk sign is blinking white before dragging Jisung across the road. 

"You should be _honored_ you've been given access to my friendship card." 

Jisung only shuts up when Hyunjin reaches into his pocket, shuffles around in his loose change, and stuffs a strawberry cough drop in Jisung's mouth. Which he should be offended about, but honestly, the cough drop is more sugar than actual medicine and frankly it tastes pretty good. He isn't by any means letting Hyunjin win, he just appreciates strawberry cough drops. 

They're nearly to the shop when Jisung spots something that makes him jump behind Hyunjin. There's a striped shirt that looks strikingly familiar to the one that had been in Laundry Boy's dreaded pile of laundry hanging on someone's frame, and immediately Jisung goes into his fight or flight responses and cowers behind Hyunjin. 

"What are you doing?" Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, unamused, and twists around to look at Jisung, who's still crouched behind him and ready to flee at any given moment. 

"There's a stripy shirt," Jisung whispers, pointing over Hyunjin's shoulder, and Hyunjin groans loudly. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me--Jisung, unless your peach was Changbin-hyung, I don't think you're in any danger." 

"Changbin-hyung?" Jisung steps up from behind Hyunjin, squinting through his glasses at the figure wearing the stripy shirt. Oh. It is Changbin. He's deep in a heated conversation with whoever's standing opposite him, thrusting his hands in all directions and clearly upset by the way his eyebrows are pinched together and his mouth is set into a grimace as he listens to whatever the other person is saying. 

"Oh. Whoops," Jisung smiles sheepishly, walking past Hyunjin. "Moving on." 

"Why do I put up with you?" Hyunjin throws his hands up in the air exasperatedly, which, offensive, because Jisung's rights are the ones that have been violated since he's the one that's been dragged out here to stare at the stupid freckled boy who works evenings at the stupidly far cafe and Hyunjin's apparently fallen head-over-heels in love with him. 

They pass Changbin as they walk to the cafe, pausing to eavesdrop on his conversation for a second. Jisung catches a snippet of something about moving an autotuned section and figures he's talking about some production assignment. 

"Hi!" Hyunjin, excruciatingly annoying as he always is, pops up next to Changbin and scares the shit both out of him and the person standing opposite him, who Jisung thinks is familiar, but can't put a name to the face. 

"Jesus Christ, Hyunjin," Changbin gasps, glaring at the younger. 

"Whatcha doing?" Hyunjin sings, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning forward with a mischievous sparkle in his wide eyes. 

"Oh, we're actually discussing a song--" the person talking to Changbin begins, but he's cut off before he can finish. "Yeah, it's called None of Ya Fuckin Business," Changbin finishes, extending a finger and jabbing Hyunjin's chest so he moves out of his face. 

The other man chokes a surprised laugh into his sleeve and Jisung giggles at Hyunjin's pout. 

"So who's the boyfriend?" Jisung chirps, sidling up next to Changbin and grinning sweetly at the stranger. Oh, Jisung definitely knows him--he's definitely seen him hanging around Changbin before but dear God he's got absolutely no idea what his name is. 

Changbin slaps both his hands to his face, utterly exasperated though Jisung and Hyunjin have only been there for thirty seconds. "I need to go back and slap past me for ever deciding it was a good idea to talk to either of you." 

The other man seems virtually amused, though, because he's watching all three of them with a fond smile on his face. "You're Jisung, right?" He asks suddenly, smiling brightly at Jisung. Jisung, taken aback, glances quickly at Changbin, opening his mouth to answer. Before he can, though, the man cuts him off again. 

"Oh shit, sorry--shoot, I mean shoot--" 

"Don't bother, hyung" Changbin rolls his eyes, "They can't go four sentences without some form of a curse word." 

"That's just not true," Jisung protests at the same time Hyunjin goes, "Yeah, that's accurate." 

"Okay," the other man laughs, "Sorry, it's just that Changbin showed me pictures of you two from high school and he basically never shuts up about you." 

Changbin lets out a long, guttural groan, bringing his hands up to cover his face again. "Why did you say that oh my God--" 

"You talk about me?" Jisung asks, grin widening, and Hyunjin decides to join in on the torment when he leans over and adds, "All the time?" 

"Okay, goodbye!" Changbin yells loudly, shoving both Jisung and Hyunjin off of him and towards the cafe. "I'm busy, leave me alone." 

"Excuse me, I'm trying to make new friends!" Jisung protests, pointing at the other guy, who's still trying not to laugh, "You always tell me I need to be more social. I'm trying to have a conversation with What's-His-Face-Hyung--" 

"I'm Chan," the other man says quickly, "or Chris, or whatever you want." 

"Goodbye!" Changbin says firmly, pushing the two of them further. 

"Okay, okay, we're leaving," Hyunjin laughs, looping his arm around Jisung's shoulders and moving towards the shop. "Bring food and Seungmin tonight!" Jisung yells over his shoulder. "And What's-His-Face-Again-Because-I-Forgot-His-Name-Already-Hyung too if you want, because we're a sad bunch of losers and we scare off everyone new!" 

Hyunjin giggles loudly as they walk into the cafe together. The strong smell of cinnamon is what hits Jisung square in the face as soon as they enter, and he actually has to stop and blink hard for a second to stop the tears from forming in his eyes. 

"Jesus," Hyunjin gasps at the same time Jisung bends over, coughing lightly. "What the heck happened in here?" 

As if on cue, Freckles pops up behind the counter with a sheepish, bright grin on his face. "There was this teeny little mishap over here," he rubs the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed, "one second please!" And then he disappears behind the counter again in a cloud of brown powder. 

And then Hyunjin starts hitting Jisung, hard, and Jisung slaps his hands away, glaring at him fiercely. "What the fuck, Hyunjin?" 

"Did you see how pretty he looks today?" Hyunjin swoons, raising a hand to his forehead dramatically and pretending to faint. 

"You absolute disaster of a human," Jisung shakes his head, walking up to the counter to peer over at what's happening. Freckles is crouched on the floor, desperately trying to sweep up a very large amount of cinnamon that's piled up on the tiles in front of him. "What goes on, dude?" 

Freckles looks up quickly, pursing his lips and sighing. "I told Eric to be careful, but the dumbass forgot to screw the top back on the shaker and then, well," he gestures to the mess, shaking his head disappointedly. 

"Sounds like Hyunjin!" Jisung says, cheerfully reaching behind him and grabbing a fistful of Hyunjin's shirt. He drags the taller boy next to him and holds a palm out towards him. "He is the most accident-prone person I've ever met." 

Freckles gives Hyunjin a big grin and Jisung swears he thinks Hyunjin might actually fall over on top of him. "Really? That's too bad," he says sweetly, before standing up and dusting his hands off, seemingly giving up on the mess still sitting on the floor. "What can I do for you?" 

"Well, first of all," Jisung crosses his arms, "I think you should get this bitchy socially incompetent giant the sweetest thing you can make, and your number because I swear he's an okay guy and I cannot hear him talk about how your freckles look like constellations for any longer." 

Hyunjin completely malfunctions, sputtering incoherently and turning that beautiful shade of sunburnt tomato again. Freckles, on the other hand, blooms pretty pink roses across his cheeks and looks up at Hyunjin with sparkling eyes. 

Jisung gags, turning towards the door and shaking his head. "Disgusting." 

_"Jisung, I am going to fucking murder you,"_ Hyunjin says out of the side of his mouth aggressively, and Jisung pats his arm condescendingly. "You're free to do that after you get Freckles' number and you shut up about his hair color." 

Freckles blushes and giggles again, and Jisung swears he sees Hyunjin turn to complete mush, a dopey smile taking place on his face and his eyes curving into adoring crescents. "My name's Felix," Freckles says, smiling at Hyunjin. 

"Great. Now do your whole flirty thing and--" Jisung's in the middle of putting a sock in the whole thing when the bell over the door jingles happily and the glass door to the cafe swings open, catching everyone's attention. 

"I'm sorry I'm late, Felix, my dance class ran so late, I ran here as fast as I could--" 

Jisung brings his sleeves to cover his mouth. Forget everything he said about being nice to the world again. Forget everything he said about him saving someone's life in an alternate universe. Because Laundry Boy ties his apron around his neon pink highlighter sweater, turns around, and gives him and Hyunjin a smile. 

And Jisung does the most logical thing anyone would've done in that situation. 

He lets out an extremely manly screech, scrambles to shove his phone in his pocket, and races out of the cafe faster than he's ever run in his entire life. 

\- 

Changbin falls over in another fit of cackling laughter, hands clutching his stomach and his hair a wild mess as he rolls around on the floor. 

Seungmin only looks mildly disappointed, taking a sip of his Coke before folding his hands in his lap and giving Jisung his famous I'm Disappointed In You For Obvious Reasons look. 

Hyunjin's just watching over the whole scene with a proud smile on his face, sticking his tongue out when Jisung looks at him woefully. Chan (dear Lord does Jisung feel bad for the man) looks like he isn't sure what to do with himself--it's obvious he's trying not to laugh, but he clearly finds the whole situation as hilarious as everyone else does. 

"Go ahead," Jisung sighs, flapping a hand at Chan. "Join the party." 

Chan does just that, doubling over in a fit of laughter at Jisung's helplessness. Jisung sulks against the leg of the chair he's leaning on, crossing his arms and glaring at his feet. This is all him and his stupid sleep deprived 2 AM self's fault and frankly, he and the universe are no longer on good terms. 

Changbin finally sits up, wiping tears from his eyes and trying to catch his breath. Chan's stopped laughing, bless him, but now he clearly thinks Jisung is the socially incompetent idiot instead of Hyunjin. 

"Oh God, you are pathetic," Changbin giggles, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back against the couch. "You're worse than _him_!" He points at Hyunjin. "At least he got Freckles' number!" 

"That was because of me!" Jisung screeches, "I did it!" He jumps up and jabs himself in the chest hard in order to prove his point. "Me, I got Felix's fucking number for him!" 

Apparently that's hilarious too, because it only sets off Changbin and Hyunjin again, and even Seungmin's trying hard not to smile at the whole thing. Jisung falls back down in a helpless little heap of limbs, curling into himself and groaning loudly. 

"Stop bullying me," he moans, wrapping his arms around himself and closing his eyes. 

"This is better than the coffee thing!" Changbin laughs loudly, clapping his hands. Chan looks up, intrigued. "What's the coffee thing?" 

Seungmin perks up, eager to explain anything to worsen Jisung's demise. "No!" Jisung yelps, lurching forward to clap his hand over Seungmin's mouth. In the process, however, he knocks his leg into that rickety coffee table Hyunjin had dragged into their double room last year from some yard sale. Apparently he'd gotten a really good deal--they'd found out why as soon as they'd unpacked it. The stupid thing needed eighteen books total to keep it straight and it still fell over every chance it got. 

And so Jisung ends up maimed in Seungmin's lap, woefully listening as the boy gleefully explains, in full detail, how Jisung had lost his footing on the library front steps and toppled onto the female professor--and drenched her in her drink. 

"That was _you_?" Chan asks between peals of laughter, "Our entire production class was talking about the dumb as shit idiot who pissed off the Lit professor for _weeks_ after." 

Jisung sighs, kicking his legs up onto the sofa and reclining on Seungmin's thighs. He jabs his thumbs at himself, closing his eyes and staying still even as Seungmin whines and shoves at his legs to get him off. 

"That's me." 

"So back to today," Hyunjin interrupts, and Jisung groans. "Can't we drop this already?" 

There's a simultaneous no, even from Chan, so Jisung gives up and sighs heavily. "I don't deserve this." 

"He sounded like a banshee," Hyunjin is explaining, "he saw the peach's face and he yeeted out of there like a Jack-in-the-box, the poor boy was so confused." 

Jisung closes his eyes and lets them discuss his life failures, choosing to log out of the conversation because anything he says at this point can and will be used against him. Instead, his brain decides to wander back to that stupid night when he'd been so ridiculously sleep-deprived that he'd actually opened someone else's washing machine, taken their clothes out, gotten caught in the act, and then gotten locked out of the washing machines. 

The worst part is he never even got his own laundry out of the room. He'd been too freakishly scared that he'd run into Laundry Boy again that he'd just pretended the laundry room didn't exist and left his wet laundry to get moldy and smelly in the machines. 

He sighs woefully. His favorite sweatshirt had been in there, too. 

Fuck the universe. Fuck sleep. Fuck clothes. Fuck stupid pretty peach boy. 

\- 

Jisung begins to regret ever getting Hyunjin Felix's number way too soon after he performs the deed. Because now, instead of dragging Jisung to Felix's cafe, Felix is over at their dorm. 

All. The damn. Time. 

And Jisung wouldn't mind Felix if he wasn't so damn loud. 

Jisung has nothing against Felix. Felix is actually really sweet, and Jisung's going to make it the last thing he does that Felix never finds out about Laundry Boy. Because Felix knows Laundry Boy, and those are connections that don't need to be filled. 

It's just that Felix never shuts up, with all due respect. Hyunjin likes to swoon over how deep his voice is--seriously, boy sounds like he's been to hell and back instead of puberty--but he never stops talking. Jisung used to think _he_ talked a lot until Felix showed up. 

So as soon as Hyunjin and Felix are over the initial awkward stage and they're in the 'we're not actually really boyfriends yet because we're both too shy to ask each other so we're just gonna attach ourselves at the hip and refuse to separate ourselves' stage, Felix is at their dorm all the time because it's apparently really illogical to ask Hyunjin to ever go to Felix's dorm. 

To make things worse, Jisung can't even go sleep in the dorm lobby on the nights that Felix and Hyunjin giggling at each other keeps him up past how long he'd meant to, because the chances of seeing Laundry Boy are just too high and he doesn't think he can handle accidentally running into him again. Not after the whole laundry thing, and definitely not now after that stunt he'd pulled last time. 

It's the new Coffee Incident. Except the nightmares are a whole shit ton worse this time. 

The worst part of it is that Jisung's getting into the thick of the year, and everything's starting to pile up on him at once. The assignments keep hurling his way and while he'd been able to catch the first few no problem, they're getting too fast and he can't seem to keep up with them. Every once in a while he'll wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night when he remembers he'd forgotten to submit this or that. 

So sleep-deprived Jisung is heightened, because Tired Jisung + Annoyed Jisung morph into a FrankenJisung, and that's just not a pleasant Jisung to be around. 

On one faithful, peaceful night that Hyunjin doesn't have Felix making kissy sounds at him every second and it's just him and Jisung at the dorm, he pops into Jisung's room with--a mug of hot cocoa. 

Jisung doesn't notice him at first, because he's trying his hardest to absorb information about historical art so he doesn't flunk the exam he's gotta take on it tomorrow, but eventually the shadow looming from the doorway catches his attention. 

"Hyunjin, I love you, but--" 

"Here." Hyunjin holds out the steaming mug, a sheepish little smile on his lips. "I'm sorry." 

Jisung pulls himself away from the book for a few minutes to look confusedly between Hyunjin and the mug. "What did you do to this?" He asks as he takes the cup slowly, eyeing it suspiciously. It looks normal, albeit the mini marshmallows clumping up and sticking together. 

"Nothing," Hyunjin rolls his eyes before taking a deep breath, "Look, I know you haven't been sleeping lately, and I'll--try to keep Felix away. Until this is better, at least," Hyunjin gestures at the piles of work Jisung's got stacked up on the desk. 

Jisung actually can't register it, so for a minute he just stares at the mug in his hands disbelievingly before shaking his head and trying to figure out if he's dreaming. 

"Thanks," Jisung says finally, when he can't come to any conclusion other than Hyunjin's been possessed by a fairy. "That'd be helpful." He gives Hyunjin a small smile. 

Hyunjin scrunches his face up. "Okay, and the second thing is please stop looking so pitiful around here. Your depressive energy is making the walls turn gray and grumbly." 

Jisung sighs. "Why did I think that wasn't going to happen?" 

"Do your work," Hyunjin shakes his head, leaving the room for a second before poking his head around the corner. "Also, we're going out for lunch tomorrow. At the place across the street." 

Jisung blinks. "But I--" 

"I know, we'll come visit you," Hyunjin says, smiling crookedly. "Haven't heard you sing in a while. I need new material to make fun of you with." 

"Lovely," Jisung swivels his chair around to face his textbook again as Hyunjin's footsteps disappear down the hallway. He supposes his roommate isn't so bad every once in a blue moon. 

-

"The mic's all set up whenever you're ready, kid," The place owner gives Jisung a warm smile, "Come round the back and I'll see if I can dig up some leftovers for you once you're through." 

"Thanks, Woojin-hyung," Jisung brushes his hair out of his eyes and rests his hands on his hips idly. 

"Any time," Woojin grins, ruffling Jisung's hair fondly. "If anything I should be the one thanking you, though. You pull in half our revenue." 

Jisung flushes, looking down at his shoes and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "That's not true." 

"So modest," Woojin sighs, shaking his head. He dusts his hands off, exploding flour in white puffs as he claps his palms together. "I'm gonna head back," he thumbs in the direction of the kitchen, where one of his employees is failing terribly at rolling out pastry dough, "but yell if you need me, okay?" 

Jisung nods and Woojin sets off to yell exasperatedly at his unintelligent employee. 

Jisung's been singing at The Lonely Star since he'd been in high school. He'd first walked into the bakery on accident his last day of freshman year, and embarrassing as it is, some girl group song he doesn't remember had been playing softly over the radio station. So, naturally, Jisung had taken it upon himself to sing along and perform as much of the choppy choreography as he could remember, and he'd found Woojin looking at him with an amused smile from the kitchen doorway. 

_"You're pretty good, kid,"_ Woojin had said as he'd rung Jisung off, and Jisung, 15 years old and with zero sense of dignity, had wallowed in the compliment. Even though now, looking back, Jisung's pretty sure he'd sounded absolutely disgusting. 

Woojin had seemed to get a bright idea then, and he'd asked Jisung if he wanted to sing at The Lonely Star for some free leftover pastries, and Jisung, both ignorant to the prospect of money and sporting a giant sweet tooth, had readily agreed. People at the store had caught on to him, and soon enough regular customers showed up on the nights he performed just to hear him sing. 

Somewhere along the way, Jisung had passed puberty, gained control of his voice, and explored the genre of awkwardly attempting to rap. He's even featured on a couple of Changbin's songs and basked in the praise he's begrudgingly received from him. So now, on custom, Jisung sings at The Lonely Star twice a week, and Woojin pays him thirty dollars (against Jisung's constant protests not to) and whatever's left of that day's pies. 

The Lonely Star is busy tonight, but there's an empty table close to Jisung's mic stand with a little black reserved sign. Woojin had become accustomed to Jisung's friends, so he reserves tables for them off of his own accord now without making them pay the reservation fee. 

So as dusk creeps closer, Jisung takes his place behind the mic stand and picks up his guitar, slinging the strap over his shoulder and checking that it's tuned before he positions himself in front of the mic. 

"Hey guys," Jisung starts, awkward as he always is. He never likes hearing his voice echo through the walls, nor does he like the fade of the conversation as he gets majority of the attention of the people seated at tables. The few people who recognize him smile brightly, others tap their fingers, bored, against the tablecloth. "I'm Jisung, I'll sing a few songs for you tonight. Feel free to ignore me if you'd like," Jisung says, putting his fingers up in an awkward peace sign and smiling just as awkwardly. 

People return to their conversations and the buzz of voices picks up again, and Jisung takes his cue to begin. His first song is a well known song from the radio, so when the first chords of his guitar ring out he gains the attention of a few tables. Jisung closes his eyes as he sings, preferring not to take note of the eyes on him. Don't get him wrong, he likes to perform, but he prefers not to bask in the fact that people are watching. 

There's quiet applause after he finishes, and a few approving nods from the elders seated by the window. Woojin, who's leaning against the glass case displaying various baked goods, smiles at Jisung with a nod. 

And seamlessly, Jisung moves into the next song. It's in English, and though he's gotten better at the language, he's always deathly afraid he'll mess up the lyrics or forget a word and embarrass himself in front of a native speaker. 

He's one chord in when the doorbell chimes and Jisung opens his eyes to see Hyunjin, Seungmin, Changbin, and Felix walk in. 

_"I've learned to slam on the breaks,"_ Jisung starts, increasingly nervous because he's only recently learned that Felix is originally from Australia, therefore making him a native English speaker who could very well make fun of Jisung's pronunciation, _"before I even turn the key--"_

They seat themselves down quickly, and Hyunjin turns to face Jisung immediately, smiling at him and waving. Felix seems to recognize the song Jisung is singing, because his head pops up in Jisung's direction with a grin, nodding along. He mouths the lyrics under his breath as he pulls out a chair of his own and drags it closer to Hyunjin so they're basically shoved up against each other. 

Even in the midst of his song, Jisung rolls his eyes, shaking his head at the two of them. Hyunjin only shakes his head back and sticks out his tongue, and Changbin reaches over to slap Hyunjin's arm, mouthing something that looks like, "Stop distracting him!" 

_"Step out, step out of the sun, if you keep getting burned,"_ Jisung misses a chord on his guitar, wincing when the song hits a stitch before picking up again. No one else seems to notice it, though--not even Felix, who's now invested in the menu. 

_"--will I, ever be more than I've always been,"_ the doorbell chimes again, and Jisung instinctively opens his eyes to watch someone walk in, _"cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass--"_

Jisung's breath hitches on the note as he catches a glimpse--of Laundry Boy's face. He has to use all of his self-dignity and will not to humiliate himself in order to keep his voice steady as he sings the next line. 

_"I'm waving through a window,"_ Jisung's voice wobbles slightly at the end and in that moment he wants nothing more than to pull on a sweatshirt and hide his face under the hood for the rest of eternity. 

Or dig a really deep hole, get inside it, and tell Hyunjin to fill the hole back up with dirt so he never has to see the sun again. He's got a feeling Hyunjin will have minimal objections to that option. 

And maybe Jisung's singing the verse that goes _'we start with stars in our eyes',_ but the only thing his head is doing is continuously repeating a mantra that sounds something like _'you are royally fucked.'_

Be optimistic, Jisung thinks as he moves on to the pre-chorus, the peach might not even look at him. It's perfectly likely that he might just walk all the way to the front counter without turning in Jisung's direction. Should Jisung sing quieter? If he sings quieter, maybe the peach will be less inclined to turn towards him. 

Has Jisung mentioned that he and the universe don't have the best relationship? Because they don't. 

And so the universe heaves up all the spite and grudges its holding against Jisung for whatever innocent man he's murdered in a past life, and Laundry Boy, who's pulled out a chair at an empty table kind of far from the front, seems to perk up a little, and he turns towards the front. 

And stares directly at Jisung, who panics the second he realizes that he's making eye contact with him. 

Jisung rips his eyes away like he's seen something truly atrocious and glues his eyes to his guitar instead, even though the chords are the last thing he's thinking about at the moment. Everything he's strumming, every note he sings is purely based on muscle memory--for all he knows, he could be singing random mumbo jumbo at this point. But based off of the fact that Felix neither looks horrified, nor is he laughing his ass off, Jisung thinks he's doing okay. 

Usually after three or four songs, Jisung would stop and make an introduction for himself again for people who'd wandered in. Today, he moves straight from one song to the next and pointedly avoids looking past Hyunjin, who's very clearly noticed the peach and is enlightening the entire table of his presence. Jisung sings defeatedly, painfully aware of what he's going to be put through the second he gets to the table. 

When Jisung said he'd wanted to be fucked, he hadn't meant by life. Laundry Boy and the universe can go fuck _each other_ and stop fucking _him_ over. 

Jisung ends his last song and hopelessly looks up to meet Hyunjin's innocent-totally-not-innocent cat grin and Changbin's smirk. Seungmin looks indifferent, as he always does, and Felix looks as equally frustrated about the menu as he had during Jisung's second song. 

"I'm Jisung," Jisung says, painfully getting his name off of his tongue. Now the peach knows his name, too. Jisung is going to strangle himself. Or have Squidward do it, either way. "Thanks for," Jisung sighs heavily, reaching up to rub at his eyes defeatedly, "listening." 

There's more applause, and Jisung bows slightly before pulling the guitar strap over his head and leaning it against the wall. He moves into the kitchen without sparing Laundry Boy or his friends' tables a glance. 

"What was the second song you sang?" is the first thing Woojin asks him the second he steps into the kitchen. 

"Uh, Waving Through A Window, I think. It's from a movie, I forgot the name." 

"It was very pretty," Woojin muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I'll have to remember that. Anyways, there's a bunch of leftover stuff in the fridge, help yourself. I am going to go over _there_ ," Woojin points over Jisung's shoulder, and Jisung turns to find the same disastrous employee now trying desperately trying to pick up what looks like twenty sticks of fallen butter, "and fix...whatever that is." 

Jisung laughs, patting Woojin's back sympathetically as he walks past with a sigh and walks towards the fridge so he can raid it. He makes the helpful discovery of a free slice of Devil's food cake and some leftover lemon drink thingie Woojin makes. 

He only walks back into the main room when he decides he's ready for the bounty of comments he's about to get. Hyunjin and Changbin are staring at him with little smirks on their faces--Felix is still trying to figure out the damn menu, someone should help the poor kid--and Seungmin still looks like he'd rather be somewhere else. Jisung doesn't dare looking in Laundry Boy's direction--if he doesn't look there, he can pretend he's just not there. 

"Don't look that way," Hyunjin whispers exaggeratedly loudly once Jisung flops into one of the chairs, taking a bite out of his cake pitifully, "but your peach walked in." He gestures overly pointedly at the exact table where Laundry Boy is seated. 

"I don't know who you're talking about," Jisung says lightly, chewing his cake thoughtfully. Changbin reaches over and plucks one of the chocolate chips off the top of Jisung's cake with his chopsticks and pops it in his mouth. 

"So that's the guy you banshee-screamed in front of?" Changbin asks, chewing loudly as he stares at Laundry Boy's table. 

Seungmin seems to have no interest in the conversation--he's moved over to translate the menu into English for Felix instead, because the poor boy looks like he's about to cry. 

Jisung smacks his head down on the table (being careful not to smack it into the cake, because he isn't a heathen.) He'd forgotten about that whole incident. If running into the peach had been bad before, his humiliation is only amplified now. Because now he's got the actual laundry incident and the whole fleeing incident under his belt--Jisung really should consider changing his name and moving to New Zealand. 

"Please shut up," Jisung says, his voice muffled into the table cloth. Hyunjin and Changbin snicker like the excruciatingly impulsively infuriating little rats they are. 

"I think you should go order him a compensation cake," Changbin suggests after five seconds of silence. "You know, to make up for stealing his laundry and then screaming in his face." 

"Or you could shut up and leave me alone," Jisung suggests himself, but his own opinion is overridden because apparently he loses credentials when his cheek is smushed into a tablecloth. Felix, though, he finally seems to understand the menu, so that's one good thing that's happened to the table. 

"Or," Hyunjin lights up, snapping his fingers and completely ignoring Jisung, "you could go over and personally apologize and then offer to do his laundry for a month!" 

"Or you could pay for his meals for a week," Changbin adds. "A month!" Hyunjin cuts in. 

"Man, I picked up his laundry by accident, I didn't murder his sister!" Jisung complains, pillowing his face in his arms instead. "Leave me alone and let me wallow in my misery." 

"Or you could be his chauffeur for a month," Changbin muses, "or--" 

"I got it!" Hyunjin shrieks, and Jisung winces. "You could ask him on a date!" 

"Jesus fuck--" Jisung groans, burying his face further into his arms. 

"Uh, hey, I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something--" 

That's a new voice. Jisung freezes up, not moving his head from his arms, even when the whole table goes quiet and he can feel Changbin's shoe kicking his leg aggressively under the table.  
  
"Would you be Jisung?" 

Somehow, without even looking up, Jisung just knows the universe is screwing him over again. He actually wonders how long he can keep his head in his arms before he suffocates or the person who's trying to get his attention leaves. 

Changbin's kicking intensifies, and Jisung grits his teeth and kicks back, hard. He grins into his wrist in satisfaction when he gets a yelp from Changbin in response. Okay, Jisung can do this. He's a responsible, mature adult, and he'll have to face his mistakes at some point. 

So one, two, three, and he'll lift his face up. 

One. 

Two.

Th--wait, is this really a good idea--ree, fuck it, here goes nothing. 

Jisung picks his no doubt red face up off the table and looks up at Laundry Boy, who's smiling amusedly with his hands resting comfortably on his hips. "Yeah," Jisung sighs, "I'm--Jisung." 

Hyunjin's trying so hard not to squeal and Changbin's moved on to hitting Hyunjin's shoulder--the two of them wouldn't understand the concept of subtlety if it slapped them in the face. Laundry Boy ignores both of them, though, keeping his eyes on Jisung. 

"You're the guy who--" 

"Stole your laundry?" Hyunjin cuts in, unable to keep his motor mouth shut any longer. "Screamed like a banshee and then ran away?" Changbin adds. 

"Locked you guys out of the washing machines?" 

"Avoided the laundry room for weeks after just so he didn't accidentally see you?" 

"Is turning the color of tomato?" 

"Will most definitely murder me when we get home?" That one's Hyunjin's, and he squeaks it out because he knows Jisung's boutta beat his ass as soon as they get home. 

Laundry Boy blinks slowly, taken aback, and Jisung closes his eyes, using all his willpower to keep himself in his seat. "The both of you are _dead fucking meat_ when we're back at the dorms," Jisung says through gritted teeth before opening his eyes and giving Laundry Boy an overly polite smile. 

"Can I _help_ you with something?" Jisung asks through his smile, reaching out and whacking whoever's shoulder is nearest to him. He thinks it's Changbin's. 

"I just wanted to let you know that you kind of, uh, well, you left your laundry in the washing machine, so I took it out and folded it for you. Did you want those back by any chance?" 

Oh, okay, _now_ Felix and Seungmin are invested in what's going on. Couldn't they have spent longer looking at their stupid menu? When did translating become such a quick job anyways? 

Hyunjin's trying real hard not to laugh and Changbin's given up already, doubled over in silent laughter. Jisung exhales heavily and ignores the fact that his face is burning hot and he's obviously red as shit. 

"That would _probably_ be a good idea," Jisung says slowly. 

"Okay, so, I'll just give you my address so you can come grab it whenever you've got a chance," Laundry Boy says, shuffling around in his pocket and pulling out a pen. "Does anyone have a napkin?" He directs the question at the whole table, but all the napkins seem to have mysteriously disappeared. 

Along with the whole napkin dispenser. The bulge in Changbin's shirt is definitely not an explanation for that. 

"Nope, no napkins here!" Hyunjin says cheerfully, "Guess you'll have to write on his hand." His own hand, which is definitely not holding the bunch of napkins that had been on the table merely seconds ago, is hidden behind his back. 

Laundry Boy looks at the pen, at Jisung's arm, and shrugs, leaning forward to tug Jisung's palm towards him. Jisung is distraught, completely at a loss as to what he should be doing, and currently wishing death on both Hyunjin and Changbin. 

Jisung swears he heats up to a temperature that could rival the sun the entire time Laundry Boy is holding his arm and scribbling out a messy address in pen. If he keeps up sweating like this, it'll be long gone by the time he gets home. 

Laundry Boy steps back and nods, satisfied with his work. He caps the pen and shoves it back in his pocket, and then he offers Jisung a smile. "By the way, your voice is really pretty," he says, "and the whole screaming like a banshee incident is forgotten." He winks before turning and walking back to his table. 

Jisung drops dead onto the table, and Hyunjin and Changbin basically explode in their seats. Felix is hanging onto Hyunjin's arm to keep him seated and Seungmin's recording Changbin, probably for blackmail purposes. 

"I'm going home," Jisung announces, very not subtly flipping off both Changbin and Hyunjin and giving Felix a sweet wave. He swears he sees Laundry Boy grin out of the corner of his eye, but he very pointedly avoids looking in that direction. 

"I'm not going home tonight," Jisung hears Hyunjin say, and he hides a wicked grin behind his sleeve. Because Hyunjin is most definitely going home tonight, and Jisung is prepared to tickle him mercilessly for as long as it takes to get an apology out of him. He'll deal with Changbin later. 

Jisung only looks at his palm when he gets home. Though the ink's smudged and become a bit blurry around the edges, it's still surprisingly legible. Beneath the scrawled address, Jisung finds Laundry Boy has written "I'm Minho, by the way, and your purple sweatshirt might be a godsend," with a smiley face next to it. 

Jisung shakes his head as he copies the address down on a stray sheet of notebook paper lying on the edge of his desk. 

What kind of idiot wears someone else's laundry? Jisung totally would not do the same thing if he was in Laundry Boy--no, _Minho_ \-- _Minho's_ position. 

But his purple sweatshirt _is_ a godsend. 

-

Contrary to popular belief, Jisung does not visit the address. 

In fact, once he realizes that the address is the exact same building as his (and seriously, he'd already known this, so why had he even been surprised?), he pointedly avoids the eighth floor and the lobby, just to be safe. 

To be honest, he isn't really sure why. He's already faced the embarrassment of being confronted of SleepDeprivedJisung's actions, so he hasn't really got a logical reason to be avoiding Lau--Minho. To be avoiding Minho. 

The excuse he gives to Hyunjin, Changbin, Seungmin, eventually Felix, and eventually even Chan, is that he's extremely busy and he totally doesn't need that giant load of laundry he's missing. Even though pretending he doesn't miss the shit out of his precious purple sweatshirt is pretty hard. 

"Just go see him already!" Hyunjin groans, flipping over onto his back so his shirt rides up and exposes the strip of skin over the waistband of his boxers. Jisung shakes his head, dipping his paintbrush back in the combination of red and blue he's mixed to create a shade of violet. 

"I will, when I have time," Jisung pokes his tongue out of his mouth as he swipes the brush over the edge of the canvas, creating uneven strokes the way his teacher had advised. "I'm excruciatingly busy, can't you tell?" 

"Jisung, this is the fourth rendition of the same exact art piece you made the last three times," Hyunjin deadpans, sitting up and pointing blankly at the other three canvases Jisung's left on the floor to dry. 

The floor around him is spattered with splotches of ruby and sapphire paint, something he'll have to attack with Lysol wipes when he's finished making the admittedly similar piece. 

"I'm perfecting it," Jisung insists, splashing his brush and swirling it around in his cup of water. "You wouldn't understand, you do photography." 

"Bullshit," Hyunjin says, crossing his arms. "You're just a coward." 

"And what about it?" Jisung sighs, finally dropping his paintbrush in the water for good and peeking up at Hyunjin over his canvas. 

"You're getting paint on all my clothes because all yours are in the peach's apartment!" Hyunjin wails, pointing at Jisung. Jisung looks down at the T-shirt he'd admittedly stolen from Hyunjin and the colors now spraying the originally gray material. 

"I'm improving them," Jisung says finally, giving Hyunjin a sweet smile. "You wear too much black." 

"It's gray!" 

"It's in the same family!" 

"You're really not gonna get your clothes back?" Hyunjin looks at Jisung expectantly. Jisung stands up and lifts his hands up, inspecting the colorful damage inflicted on his wrists. "I will," he says slowly, "eventually," he adds after a few seconds. 

Hyunjin groans again and flops back onto the bed, looking scarily similar to a starfish. "You insufferable tortoise." 

"It's a charm of mine," Jisung says distractedly as he walks over to the tap in the cramped kitchen, running his hands under the water. The paint on his hands is annoyingly stubborn, and he barely manages to get the top layer of the color off before he realizes that the pain's settled into his skin and he's gonna be stained for the rest of the week. 

"You see?" Jisung shakes his hands as he walks back into the bedroom, "this is why no one ever has to ask what my major is." 

He makes quick work of putting away his paints and setting the fourth canvas to dry by the first three. "I'm gonna go grab my hoodie, I left it in the lobby," Jisung says. Hyunjin flails in his direction, so Jisung assumes he's heard and walks out the door. 

The lobby isn't too full, and Jisung spots his hoodie fairly quickly. 

Remember Jisung's issue with the universe and how it never likes to leave him alone? Yeah, it really does never like to leave him alone. 

Because Jisung's leaning over the arm of the couch to grab his hoodie when he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to come face to face with Minho. 

"Ohmygosh don't _do_ that!" Jisung breathes heavily, glaring at Minho. "You _scared_ me." 

"Sorry," Minho shrugs, looking very not sorry, "You never came to get your clothes." 

Jisung flushes (he's really been doing a lot of that recently, hasn't he? Is that healthy?) and goes to shove his hands in his pockets when he realizes Hyunjin's track pants don't have any pockets, so he has to settle for clasping them behind his back awkwardly. 

"Yeah, I've, uh, been. Really, super, uh, busy," Jisung stutters out, staring at his shoes. He looks up to find Minho confused, but the man doesn't ask him any further questions. 

"Okay," Minho says slowly, "Do you wanna come get them now? I'm just a few floors up." He points at the elevator with a thumb, and Jisung sighs defeatedly. He might as well get his stock of clothes back since he's already in this situation. "Sure." 

Minho smiles and loops his arm around Jisung's shoulders. Jisung lets him, awkwardly, because what is he supposed to do? Say no? 

And besides, Minho smells good and Jisung thinks it's a pleasant change from the chemical smell of paint he's been inhaling all day. "Great! Let's go." 

"That's a very--choice fashion statement," Minho says once they're in the elevator, gesturing to Jisung's shirt. Jisung looks down and winces when he remembers the mess of paint splatters he'd gotten on it--he's definitely not the neatest art student. 

"Yeah, paint never really sticks to the canvas when it's around me," Jisung says. 

Minho giggles--yes, literally giggles, and maybe it's the cutest sound Jisung's ever heard, but he's totally not gonna admit that--and before either of them get another word out, the elevator dings and they step out onto the eighth floor. 

"My room's right there," Minho points across the hallway to the third door, and Jisung follows him down the hallway. Minho doesn't take out a key card or anything--for some reason he's left his door unlocked--so he just twists the knob and lets himself in. 

Jisung follows Minho hesitantly into the dorm. It's fairly large, bigger than Jisung's own, and it's comfortably messy in a homey sort of way. There's another room that's attached to the first one, and the kitchen is the first room on the right--the counter's so close to the sink that it barely leaves any room for someone to slink in. The place to the right is covered in sheets of paper and various plants trailing their abnormally large leaves from the floors and the ceilings. 

"Here, it's just this way," Minho gestures to the other room, stepping naturally over a leaf and crossing around a pile of red-covered textbooks. Jisung follows his lead, entering the room after Minho. 

There's a giant mirror spanning the entire left wall and a stereo speaker set up near one of the corners--and lo and behold, Jisung's folded and dried laundry sitting in a neat little pile on a chair. 

"Do you need help carrying it?" Minho asks when Jisung makes no move to get it and instead stares at it quietly. 

"I got it," Jisung says after a few beats, nodding and walking forward to pick it up. "Wow--you like, folded it." 

"Yeah, I told you I did, didn't I?" 

"No, you like, actually folded it--" Jisung says, in awe at the perfectly folded creases and the evenly tucked shirt sleeves and the straightened collars. Even the hoodie strings are all the same length. 

"Is that...not how normal people fold it?" Minho asks, crossing his arms and blinking confusedly. 

"On the weeks Hyunjin does the laundry, I'm lucky to even get it in a laundry bag," Jisung says, leaning forward to inspect the perfectly folded sweatshirt on top of the pile. "This is awesome, thanks--Minho-ssi." 

"I really feel like I should bake you compensation cookies or something," Jisung says as he walks to the door with folded laundry in his arms. Minho smiles at him and leans forward to open the door for him. 

"Don't bother, most of them will end up down my roommates throat instead of mine," he says good-naturedly, "but I'll let you know if I ever need a favor." 

Jisung stands outside Minho's dorm. "But you don't know where I live--" 

"I'm sure I can figure it out if I need to," Minho says smoothly, giving Jisung a small wave before the door clicks shut. 

"Not ominous," Jisung says to himself, blinking haphazardly, "not ominous at all." 

\- 

What Jisung is not expecting is for Minho to show up at his door a week later with a grin on his face and his hands clasped behind his back. 

"I need a favor." 

"How did you even find out where I live--" Jisung blinks as Minho looks over his shoulder into his dorm. 

"Logistics, details, blah-blah, who cares about all that?" Minho shrugs, "There's only so many room numbers in nine floors, Jisung." 

"What--" 

"I'm joking," Minho says impatiently, "Woojin-hyung is my roommate. Can I come in?" 

Jisung steps back, taken aback, as Minho walks into his apartment and flops down on the tattered beanbag chair comfortably. As if on cue, Hyunjin exits the bedroom, chewing noisily on an apple. He barely spares Minho a glance as he walks past the first time. 

"Oh, hey, peach," he comments offhandedly as he walks into the kitchen. "Wait a second--peach?" Hyunjin backtracks all the way back to the beanbag chair, where Minho is grinning up at him innocently. 

"Hello, I'm Minho!" He says cheerfully, clasping his hands together in his lap. 

Hyunjin looks at Minho, at Jisung, back at Minho, and then back at Jisung. "What goes on, Sungie?" 

"Good question!" Minho says, "Shall I explain?" 

Jisung blinks again as Hyunjin grows even more confused. "Jisung, as much as I fully support you getting any sort of dick--" 

" _Hyunjin_!" Jisung screeches, "We have a _guest_!" 

"What?" Hyunjin shrugs, taking another bite out of his apple, "He should know what he's walking into! And when did you and the peach become friends?" 

"I don't know!" Jisung throws his hands up, "He just showed up here and I can't kick him out now!" 

"Okay, rude," Minho says, getting comfortable in the beanbag chair, "and the peach has a _name_ , you know. And can I be, like, a plum, or something? Those are sexier." 

"Minho-ssi, the peach emoji is _literally_ an ass," Jisung says exasperatedly. Hyunjin snickers and smacks louder on his apple. 

"So what's the peach doing here?" he asks, clearly more interested in Jisung's personal affairs than whatever he's meant to be doing. "Heck if I know," Jisung shrugs. 

"Okay, excuse me, I am literally right here," Minho interrupts, popping up, "and my name is _Minho,_ " he points accusingly at Hyunjin. 

"Okay, Minho, what's the peach doing here?" Hyunjin says, crunching loudly. Jisung mumbles a few curse words under his breath and shakes his head.

"Why do you hate me?" Jisung looks up at the sky and shakes his arms, "Why? I'm sorry I stepped on that cat's tail that one time, I swear the thing just yeeted under my foot--" 

"First of all, you absolute heathen," Minho says, offended, "how could you step on a cat's tail? And second of all, I need a favor." 

"Why, does Jisung owe you for being a complete dumbass?" Hyunjin asks, finishing off his apple and putting the core on the table. And then running his sticky hands on his jeans, to which Jisung groans and slaps his wrists. "Go get a napkin, you slob." 

"No, I don't care about that," Minho says, crossing his legs under him, "I've gotten worse. He doesn't really owe me, I just really need this favor and he thinks he owes me so I'm cashing in the nonexistent owed favor." 

"Why would you tell me that?" Jisung says, throwing his hands up in the air again. "Next time you go murder someone, why don't you just give them an invite to their own funeral beforehand?" 

"I like the way you think, Jisung," Minho says, pointing at Jisung with finger guns. 

Hyunjin swings his legs back and forth and smacks his lips together. "So what's the peach doing here?" He asks. 

"Hyunjin for fuck's sake--" 

" _Minho_ ," Minho glares at Hyunjin, "is here because he needs a favor--" 

"Just get to the fuckin point, mister!" Hyunjin yells. Minho sighs and rolls his eyes. 

"Alright, calm your tits. So basically, I did something really stupid." 

"I'm not helping you bury any bodies--" Jisung says immediately. He's still traumatized from that one time Changbin prank called him in the middle of the night asking him where the best place to hide a dead person was. 

"Guess I'll be on my way then!" Minho jumps up, straightening his clothes. Jisung nearly has a panic attack until Minho bursts out laughing and sits back down, shaking his head. "You're too easy, you know that? I'm joking, don't freak out." 

"For the love of God just tell me what you want, I have homework--" Jisung moans, putting his head in his hands. 

"Anyways," Minho starts again, "basically, Woojin-hyung, my roommate, invited me to go to the movies with him. So naturally, I said yes, because, like, free food and free soda and free naptime, you know?" 

Hyunjin nods along like it's the most logical thing he's ever heard, while Jisung just really wants Minho to get to the point and get out so that he can finish his art essay. 

"But see, I wasn't really listening to the second part of what he said, because then he goes, 'and by the way, I totally won the bet'. So I'm sitting there like, 'what bet', and he's like, 'I got a boyfriend first, told you I'm hotter!'. And then I remembered on the first day of freshman year we were fighting over who's hotter and we said whoever got a boyfriend first was obviously the hotter one.'" 

"Okay first of all," Jisung interrupts, "It took you three years to get boyfriends? That's so pathetic--" 

"Oh shut up, you dick-deprived prick," Hyunjin cuts in, rolling his eyes. Jisung gasps in outrage and lunges over to hit Hyunjin, but Hyunjin moves too fast and Jisung ends up smacking his arm against the corner of the table. 

"And second of all," Jisung forces out past the tears forming in his eyes because _ouch_ , "that logic is completely ill-formed." 

"Yeah, whatever. But see, I'm obviously hotter than my roommate, and there was no way I was gonna let him win that bet, so I did the logical thing everyone in that situation would do." 

"Shut up and accept your less hot?" Jisung suggests, at the same time that Hyunjin goes, "Kill him!" 

"That's lame," Minho points at Jisung, "and dude, what the fuck?" He points at Hyunjin, who shrugs innocently. "No, the obvious response is to tell him that I already have a boyfriend because I'm obviously hotter and the only reason his boyfriend is dating him is obviously out of pity." 

"Why would you do that?" Jisung chokes out, still trying to get over the vibrations in his funny bone, "That's the dumbest thing you could've possibly done--" 

"Yeah, I get that now," Minho sighs, "And he didn't believe me, can you believe the nerve of him? He goes all, 'oh well then bring him to the movies' and obviously I wasn't gonna let him win so I said 'yeah I will' and now guess what?" 

"You're boyfriend-less and your double date is tomorrow?" Hyunjin guesses. 

"I'm boyfriend-less and my double date is tomorrow," Minho confirms. 

"And what does any of this have to do with me?" Jisung asks impatiently, and Minho turns and gives him the most satanic grin Jisung's ever seen in his life. 

"Oh..." Jisung shrinks back, "... _oh_." 

And that obnoxious flute noise in the background? It's Hyunjin's awful attempt at trying to copy the instrument, and neither of them have the heart to tell him he sounds more like a dying llama in an elephant's body than a flute. 

\- 

"I can't believe you're making me be your boyfriend because you _folded_ my _clothes_." 

"Okay, first of all," Minho pops a piece of beef into his mouth gingerly, " _fake_ boyfriend, and second of all," he pauses to swallow, you also stole my laundry and then screamed in my face." 

"You said that was forgotten!" Jisung protests loudly, his cheeks heating up at the memory.

"Yeah, but it's always good to have blackmail, you know?" Minho chews thoughtfully as he points his chopsticks at Jisung. 

Jisung flops back in his chair, crossing his arms. He analyzes Minho's face scrutinizingly for any hint of the fact that he might be joking, but he only stares back at Jisung, dead serious. 

"Alright, fine," Minho sighs, putting down his chopsticks on the edge of his plate neatly. "Since you're obviously being put through so much torture, I'll make you a deal. You do this for me, and I'll consider the folding repaid. But I'll _also_ buy you a month's supply of cup ramen from the convenience store and no one will ever hear about the laundry incident, the banshee incident, _or_ the the coffee incident again. At least from me." 

"You _know_ about that?" Jisung sputters, glaring at the table. Minho rolls his eyes. " _Everyone_ knows about that, Jisung." 

"You don't have to rub it in," Jisung mutters, crossing his arms again. 

"Do we have a deal, then?" Minho's looking at him expectantly, tapping his fingers against the table and poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. 

Jisung sighs heavily, pitches forward, and takes Minho's outstretched hand. "Deal." 

Minho shakes his hand firmly with a devilish grin. "Excellent." 

Jisung doesn't trust him already. And if he ends up murdered at the end of this, it is completely one hundred percent Hyunjin's fault. He hasn't exactly worked out how yet, but he'll get around to it. 

"First of all, you need to stop calling me Minho-ssi," Minho says, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his hair--which he needs to stop doing because he is, in case, very attractive and it's extremely distracting. 

"I don't know how old you are! Actually, to be frank, I don't know shit about you. Actually, to strip it completely bare, I didn't properly know you even existed until like, yesterday." 

"Okay, then, let's start over," Minho suggests, sitting up straight and straightening his bangs out. And then he smiles big and bright and holds out his hand for Jisung to shake. 

"Hi, I'm Lee Minho, nice to meet you." 

Jisung stares at his hand distastefully for a few seconds before sighing and taking it, shaking his hand again and shaking his head along with it. "Jisung." 

"Oh, come on, at least try, dude!" Minho complains, jutting out his lower lip. "I can't have a boyfriend who isn't the least bit interested in me. You have to act like you _love_ me." 

"Oh god," Jisung rolls his eyes, but he obliges. "Fine. I'm Han Jisung." At Minho's expectant stare, he sighs and adds, "Nice to meet you too."

Minho smiles, satisfied, and nods firmly. "Basically you need to give me a good overview of your life and I'll give you a good overview of mine, and then we need to go though every possible question Woojin or his boyfriend could ask. Are you a good liar?" 

"Yes," Jisung says immediately, perking up. That he is good at. Admittedly not the best talent, but he can roll a lie off his tongue faster than he can the truth sometimes. 

"Okay, I'll start. I major in dance, I'm 21, I'm from Gimpo, I moved to Seoul to attend this college. I work part time at the cafe and I volunteer at an animal shelter. I have three cats named Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, and a pet Dieffenbachia--" 

"A pet what the fuck now?" Jisung blinks. 

"Dieffenbachia. She's really pretty, her leaves are like--" 

"You have a pet _plant_?" Jisung blinks. 

"Hey, this is a No-Judging Zone--" 

"When did we ever establish that this is a No-Judge Zone?" 

"So you're really gonna judge me--" 

"You have a pet _plant_!" 

"As my boyfriend," Minho glares, "you have to love my pet plant as much as you love me," 

"Which is zero percent," Jisung adds. 

"Look, man, you are not making this easy, it's one time and you already agreed to this, you might as well do it _right_." 

"Alright, alright, I won't say anything else about your pet plant," Jisung says begrudgingly. Oh, Hyunjin is going to have a fit about this when he gets home.

"Anyways," Minho glares at Jisung, "Now your turn." 

So, unfortunately, Jisung is forced to let Minho know about his entire life. "I'm Jisung, I'm 19, I'm from Incheon. I sing at The Lonely Star twice a week and I'm majoring in modern art, and anything stupid I do is usually because I'm sleep-deprived and my brain isn't fully functioning so anything that is witnessed while I'm half asleep should be forgiven and forgotten. How did we meet?" 

Minho sighs, tearing off the edge of a napkin and toying it between his fingers. "Okay, uh--we met a month ago--" 

"Isn't it kind of long?" Jisung asks. If it's been a month, then he and Minho have to be experts on each other and that's just something Jisung isn't going to be able to fully promise. 

"Fine, a week--" 

"That's way too short, that sounds like you're _trying_ to make it unbelievable." 

"Look, human, make up your mind!" Minho throws his hands up exasperatedly. 

"We met two and a half weeks ago," Jisung decides. 

"At the Lonely Star?" Minho asks. Jisung shakes his head. "Woojin-hyung is the owner of that place, he'd know if we met there. We met--hey, how many people did you tell about the laundry incident?" Jisung asks suddenly. 

Minho looks surprised. "I don't think that's important right now--" 

"Just tell me," Jisung says impatiently, tapping his fingers against the table as he waits. Minho sighs, thinking for a second. "I haven't told anyone yet." 

"Really?" Jisung asks, taken aback. He was sure Minho'd have told everyone he knows by know. He'd run home and told Hyunjin as soon as the thing had happened--a very unintelligent decision, but the only thing his brain had thought of doing. He shakes his head quickly. "Perfect, then. We met because I accidentally stole your laundry out of a washing machine." 

"I thought you wanted to forget that ever happened--" Minho says, blinking slowly. Jisung shrugs. "I'm dumb, might as well embrace it. And besides, it's easier to tell that story since it actually happened." 

"Okay," Minho says slowly, "So we met how we actually met, just two and a half weeks ago." 

"Right," Jisung nods, leaning his chin on a fist. "I went to your dorm to get them back--" 

"That did not happen--" 

"Ignore the logistics! I went to your dorm to get them back willingly," (Minho rolls his eyes at that and Jisung pointedly ignores that fact, continuing on,) "and you invited me in because--because--" 

"Because I thought you were gorgeous and I wanted to make you stay," Minho finishes. 

Jisung flushes bright red and he heats up again, looking away from Minho and at that tiny drop of water threatening to fall from the edge of the table. "Don't do that," he grumbles, running his hands through his hair messily. 

Minho smiles innocently. "What? You _are_ pretty--" 

"Minho-ssi--hyung!" Jisung groans. 

"Okay, okay--it's not my fault you're shy." 

"Anyways," Jisung says, looking out the window except across the table at Minho and his honey blonde hair, "all that happened, and then we went on a date and you asked to be my boyfriend. Finish." 

Minho nods and picks up his drink, tilting his head back as he swallows it. The light's spraying on the left side of his face, making him glow next to the window. Jisung looks away quickly, shaking his head. 

"Sounds like a plan, Jisungie." 

Jisung quirks a brow at the nickname, and Minho shrugs. "It's that or baby, your pick." 

"You're gonna call me baby anyways, aren't you?" Jisung sighs. Minho smiles. "I'm gonna call you baby anyways." 

"Remind me why I signed up for this again?" 

"Because you love me already and totally not because I bribed you with cup ramen?" Minho suggests. Jisung pretends to think for a moment before shaking his head. "Nah, it's definitely the cup ramen." 

Minho shrugs and sighs, chewing on the edge of his straw. "I'll take it."

(And when Jisung gets back to the dorm, he reaches into his pocket for his phone and pulls out a napkin with numbers scrawled on it, with a little pink heart drawn next to them. And Jisung finds it better not to question how the fuck Minho got the napkin into his pocket.) 

\- 

"How do you get yourself into these situations, you moron?" Changbin asks. 

They're at the older's apartment--he's the only one in their little group who can actually afford an apartment because he's smart about his money and he doesn't blow it through everytime the paycheck he receives is the slightest bit above normal--read: Hyunjin, read: Jisung, read: Seungmin, and read: maybe Felix because Felix may be just as smart and just choosing not to buy an apartment. 

Speaking of Felix, he and Hyunjin are still dancing around each other like idiots. It's almost painful to watch the two of them giggle brainlessly at each other, both of them obviously waiting for the other to make the first move yet neither of them actually taking initiative and doing it. 

Jisung looks away exasperatedly from where Hyunjin and Felix are literally sprawled on top of each other on Changbin's couch, giggling at something on Felix's phone. Seungmin, on the other hand, is half-asleep on Changbin's shoulder. Which is a rare occasion enough in itself, because on a good day Seungmin barely lets Changbin touch him without letting out a screech. Personally, Jisung thinks Seungmin's got a thing for Changbin, but he wouldn't dare say that out loud for fear of his life. 

"I'm cute and easy to manipulate?" Jisung tries, smiling innocently at Changbin, who shakes his head. Very gently so he doesn't rustle Seungmin, who's pretty much conked out at this point. 

"Yes to the second part, fuck no to the first," Changbin says flatly, narrowing his eyes at Jisung. "You have no sense of rationality and frankly, I think you're just trying to get a piece of him." Changbin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

Jisung gags loudly and exaggeratedly, gaining Hyunjin's attention for a split-second before he's wiggling over Felix again. He is absolutely not trying to get a piece of Minho. The obnoxiously annoying older is not the least bit appealing to Jisung, no matter how attractive he may be. 

"Absolutely not," Jisung says, disgustedly. "Whatever you say, Jisungie!" Changbin sings, but he doesn't stop wiggling his eyebrows. "But I don't blame you, he's hot as _shit_." 

"Don't be jealous, Changbin-hyung, you're hot too," Felix says from the couch. He doesn't look up from his phone--and if he wasn't so invested in Hyunjin, Jisung would think he had a thing for Changbin too with how much he likes to attach himself to the older. 

"I'm not being jealous, I'm being gay," Changbin says matter-of-factly. "And you met the guy yesterday, Jisung. How are you planning on getting through Woojin-hyung when you literally know his name only?" 

"We met up for some impromptu get-to-know-each-other thing earlier," Jisung sighs, crossing his legs under him and leaning back against the wall. "Par his suggestion. He has three cats and a pet plant. _Don't_ ," Jisung points a finger at Changbin without even looking at him, painfully aware of what he's going to ask next, "ask." 

"Hey, who am I to judge when I keep this demon around?" Changbin nudges Seungmin lightly. 

Jisung scoffs. "Oh, come on, hyung, everyone knows you've got a soft spot for him," he raises an eyebrow. 

"I do not!" Changbin sputters--well, sputter-whispers, he's still trying not to wake up Seungmin. 

"Sure you don't," Jisung says, unfolding his legs and yawning. He tilts his head back so his hair is touching the wall and lets his eyelids flutter shut. He's beyond exhausted--midterms are kicking his ass and he's pretty sure he wrote something about gustatory imagery in his exam on art during the Renaissance period. 

"Please don't fall asleep here, I don't have enough beds for you all," Changbin begs, but Jisung just waves a hand at him and proceeds to pass out against his wall anyways. And maybe it's a fever dream, but he swears Changbin picks him up and piggybacks him to one of his extra beds (he definitely has enough if they all share.) Perhaps Changbin can raise himself in the friend rankings after all. 

The next time he wakes up he's definitely in a bed (not a fever dream and Changbin is definitely going up in the friend rankings) and there's sunlight spilling through the open window and dappling the carpet. 

There's a tiny note in Changbin's loopy handwriting on the nightstand that lets him know he's checked to make sure Jisung wouldn't be missing any important classes and that there's leftover kimchi fried rice in the fridge. The P.S. at the bottom adds that Felix is on the couch and that Jisung should wake him up so the two of them can, and he quotes, beat it and leave him alone, with a little smily face next to the text. 

Jisung blinks groggily at the note before he puts it down and reaches for his phone instead, hitting the lockscreen and being met with dozens of text messages, all from an unknown number he'd clearly forgotten to save with a name. He'd texted Minho last night to make sure the number was right and hadn't looked back since, and there's some times and dates, a list of things Jisung definitely shouldn't bring up, and a few death threats sprinkled in that detailedly explain what Minho will do to Jisung if he forgets and doesn't show up at the movie theater at two sharp. 

And because Jisung would rather not have his ears hacked off with a chainsaw and then fed to elephants, he drags his ass out of bed and goes to wake Felix up, too. Except he never has to cross that bridge, because Felix is in Changbin's kitchen with a bowl of...something that he's desperately trying to mix. 

He gives Jisung a smile and a sheepish, 'Good morning,' and that's Jisung's cue to sigh heavily and attempt to sort out whatever it is Felix is trying to do. Granted, he's probably not the best person to help sort out food-related messes, but he's got a funny inkling that he's better at it than Felix. 

And then Jisung walks back to the dorm, having eaten some barely edible yet still edible version of a pancake and trying his best to keep it in him as he goes home. The fact that the center of it had still been likely raw is not helping his stomach settle much. 

Hyunjin isn't at the dorm when Jisung keys himself in, so he takes the liberty to go through Hyunjin's clothes because he's got a better selection than Jisung himself. He doesn't bother dressing up--one because he doesn't think it's necessary, two because he's too lazy to think up an outfit, and three because Hyunjin will kill him if he inevitably rumples his nice shirts. So he ends up putting on a black shirt and a pair of Hyunjin's jeans that honestly are meant to show more skin than fabric, and he stares at his hair in the mirror for a good five seconds before sighing dejectedly and borrowing Hyunjin's headband, too. 

The only thing that actually gets Jisung out of the house and walking to the movie theater is the constant reminder that he won't have to scrounge up cup ramen money for an entire month. 

Jisung regrets every life decision he's made since Tuesday as soon as he walks into view of the movie theater. 

First of all because Minho is already there, and goddamnit he's not even trying but he looks nice. His red and black striped shirt is half-tucked into his tight-- _tight_ \--jeans and he's actually put effort into styling his hair. It's brushed back over his forehead instead of hanging over his eyebrows like it usually does, and Jisung swears there's copper eyeshadow shimmering on his lids. 

Second of all because up until now, Minho had not specified who exactly Woojin's boyfriend is. So Jisung has a teeny tiny panic attack when he walks closer and realizes Woojin-hyung is hanging on to the hand of a barely shorter, blonde man--named Chan. 

"You have got to be kidding me, man," Jisung mumbles under his breath at whoever's sick twisted idea of a prank this was. Probably the universe's again, it seems to love to fuck Jisung over whenever it gets the chance. 

"Hi, Jisungie!" Minho chirps, wrapping his arm around Jisung the second he's within arm's length. Jisung has to hold back the urge to pull away, choosing to focus on how Minho smells like printer cartridges and lemons and faintly like Lysol wipes. "Woojin-hyung, you know Jisung, right?" 

Jisung's honestly terrified to look up at either Woojin or Chan's faces. This has got to be the most stretched-out, patchy coincidence ever. If he was in either Woojin or Chan's shoes, he'd already be calling bullshit on the whole thing. 

"You're dating _Jisung_?" Woojin sounds extremely disbelieving, and Jisung forces himself to look up with a barely concealed wince. Woojin's looking between him and Minho, increasingly suspicious as the seconds tick by. "I didn't know you knew Minho, Jisungie," he adds after a few beats, narrowing his eyes. 

"I--" 

"He doesn't have to tell you _everything_ , Woojin-hyung," Minho says, a hint of annoyance lying under his tone. 

Woojin only narrows his eyes further, but he doesn't say anything else on the matter. Instead, he brings Chan, who's been silent the whole time, forward. "This is my boyfriend, Chan," Woojin says slowly, tilting his head at Jisung questioningly. 

"I know him," Chan says, smiling at Jisung and waving lightly at him. "He's Changbin's friend." 

"Were _you_ , by any chance, aware that Minho was dating him?" Woojin turns to Chan. Chan shakes his head cluelessly. "I had no idea. Changbin definitely hasn't said anything about them dating. These two have zero classes together, I didn't know they even knew each other existed." 

Jisung bites his lip nervously, shuffling closer to Minho on instinct. Minho's arm tightens around his shoulders, and Jisung can't tell whether it's a warning or a means of comfort. Jisung should have known Woojin would be suspicious--in reality, he's right. Had he actually been dating someone, Woojin would have been one of the first people to know. And while Jisung is a good liar--years of having a sharp tongue have proven suspicious--he always finds it increasingly hard to lie to Woojin. The man seems to have lie detectors especially for Jisung embedded in his gut. 

"Right, you two major in completely different things. And Minho's a junior, you're a sophomore," Woojin says slowly, poking his tongue out of the side of his mouth. And then he cocks his head. "How _did_ you two manage to meet, then?" 

Minho squeezes Jisung's arm gently. _I got this._ Jisung lets Minho take over, trying to keep his face straight despite how awkward this whole thing is getting. 

"Funny story--this dumbass took my clothes out of the washing machines instead of his and spent the next ten minutes coming to terms with the fact that the laundry in his hands wasn't his, and we got locked out of the machines," Minho says smoothly, rubbing Jisung's arm. 

"That was _Minho_?" Chan looks absolutely bewildered--oh _fuck_ , Jisung had forgotten Chan knew about the washing machine incident. In his defense, how was he supposed to know Woojin's boyfriend was Chan? "You ended up _dating_ your peach?" 

Minho stiffens next to Jisung--he's obviously not expecting someone to know about it, and he freezes. It's all on Jisung now. 

"I had to go get my clothes from his dorm because I was too mortified to go back to the laundry room, and--well, he asked me out, and then," Jisung gestures, a very large, very fake grin painted on his face. 

This sounds like the cheesiest badly-written romance novel Jisung's ever heard. He doesn't even believe himself at this point. Everything he says sounds manufactured and fake. 

"That's a very Minho thing to do," Chan muses, looking at Woojin, who shrugs defeatedly, seemingly coming to terms with the fact that the whole thing is crazy and real. 

"Fine," Woojin says plainly, "Ready, then?" 

"Ready as I'll ever be," Jisung mutters under his breath, while Minho laughs uncharacteristically loudly and tugs Jisung gently. "We're ready!" 

Chan and Woojin begin to walk and Jisung and Minho lag behind. "We're busted," Jisung says out of the side of his mouth. "We sound like _robots_ , hyung." 

"It's not over till it's over," Minho says through clenched teeth, "Unless either of them straight up ask if this is fake, play along. They'll run out of questions eventually." 

And so they walk into the movie theater, and Jisung sits through the entire horror movie curled up in Minho's side because Woojin is sitting right next to them and Chan is literally hiding in his chest and obviously that means that even though Jisung isn't scared he's gotta act all domestic and lovey-dovey with Minho too, so he begrudgingly moves the arm rest up and fits himself into Minho's side and breathes in the smell of cartridge ink and lemonade the whole movie. 

The stunt he pulls next is not on purpose. It's just that Jisung is tired, and the movie is _boring_. And his brain keeps flickering back to all the work he still has left to do and the fact that he's pressed into a boy's side at a movie theater when he should be editing his fourteen page essay instead, and that just leaves him stressed and tired. 

And so lack of sleep catches up to him, and completely unintentionally, despite having slept literally right before coming here, Jisung falls asleep on Minho--in the middle of the horror movie. 

And he's got absolutely no idea what happens next, because the next time he wakes up its three in the morning and he's in his own bed--and this time Hyunjin is wrapped around him, not Minho. 

Jisung sits up and detaches himself carefully from Hyunjin's octopus grip before he slides out of the bed--he's wearing a pair of sweatpants now, so he's guessing Hyunjin took the liberty of changing his clothes. And not providing him with a shirt, but then again he barely ever sleeps with one anyways. He runs a hand through his rumpled hair and yawns before reaching over and pulling the blanket over Hyunjin completely. 

And then he picks up his bag, stuffs in his laptop without checking to see if it's charged (god he really hopes it's charged), and leaves the dorm quietly. He's pretty sure the due date for the assignment is eight in the morning today, which leaves him with five hours to finish writing a fourteen page essay and fact checking it. 

The library is gloomy this late at night. The gray building, which looks depressing even during the day, looks absolutely like a haunted house in the middle of the night. Except instead of being filled with ghosts, it's filled with half-asleep zombie college students all trying desperately to finish whatever it is they haven't done yet. 

Jisung pushes open the glass door and saves the tired volunteer student at the front desk the effort of smiling, walking straight past to the study rooms so he can grab a table. 

"Jisung?" 

Jisung turns around groggily to meet eyes with--Minho, who's practically half-asleep at one of the tables. His head's propped up lazily on a fist and his eyes are barely open--and he's wearing glasses. 

Wearing glasses shouldn't be such a big deal, but for some reason Jisung feels his brain go all fuzzy for a second when he registers the fact that Minho's got glasses on. Jisung wears glasses too--it's just that he looks like a nerd potato when he wears them and somehow Minho looks like a model on a runway, even half asleep. He waves Jisung over tiredly, and Jisung obliges, setting his bag down and dropping into the chair opposite Minho. 

"You fell asleep," Minho says after a few minutes, blinking slowly to keep his eyes open. Jisung nods as he logs into his laptop, pursing his lips before he looks over the edge of the screen at Minho apologetically. 

"Sorry, I guess I overheated," Jisung explains tiredly, rubbing an eye behind his specs. Minho waves a hand gently, eyes flickering back to the book he's supposedly reading. He looks unbelievably different than how he had a few hours ago--less put-together, less flirty, more--more normal. Like he's been rubbed out and softened around the edges instead of sharp cut like he usually is. 

"It worked out in my favor," Minho replies, half-smiling, "it was all incredibly gross and domestic and extremely believable." 

"Glad I could help," Jisung smiles back, hiding a yawn behind his sleeve. "Woojin-hyung's stare was starting to make me go crazy." 

"I know, right?" Minho laughs softly, "I love him to death but dear _Lord_ is he terrifying." 

"Tell me about it," Jisung shakes his head, scarred. "Don't ever get on his bad side because you are not getting out of there alive." 

Minho laughs again. Jisung finds himself smiling as he stares at his computer screen, definitely because he loves the topic he's writing about and definitely not because he likes the version of Minho sitting in front of him. Then again, he barely knows Minho well enough to make any assumptions about him. 

"We were gonna wake you up but Woojin-hyung said you don't sleep much so I took you home," Minho says quietly after a few minutes of silence. Jisung looks up at him again and he swears there's the slightest bit of concern glittering in his eyes under the dim library lights. 

"Woojin-hyung likes to exaggerate," Jisung says, waving his hand lightly to brush off the subject, "but, you know, thanks." 

Minho hums gently, but he drops the subject.

"So you do realize," Jisung muses, putting down his pencil and looking up, "since we're fake dating, we're gonna have to fake break up." 

Minho grimaces. "I forgot about that part. How long are you willing to drag this out? I already proved I'm hotter," Minho flips his nonexistent long hair and earns himself an exaggerated eyre roll from Jisung, "but it's gonna be so obvious if we break up two and a half weeks after we started dating." 

Jisung grins. "If you wanted to keep me around so bad you could've just asked, you know," he jokes. Minho kicks his leg under the table and Jisung yelps, earning himself a glare from the table next to them. 

"I'm joking," he giggles, "drag it out as long as you want. I get free food and free nap time," he shrugs. 

"And me!" Minho adds. Jisung makes a face. "Yeah, that's the only downside." 

"Ouch," Minho gasps. Jisung shakes his head, muffling his laughter behind his hand and looking back down at his laptop screen. 

Jisung ends up cutting his assignment way too close to the submission date because Minho distracts him every chance he gets. At one point he gets on a roll about the bunnies that he gets to play with at the animal shelter and then Jisung's begging him to play with the bunnies and Minho's laughing really hard when he tells Jisung they'll have a fake-date at the animal shelter some day. 

"I have class," Jisung stands up some time after the sun rises, smiling apologetically at Minho. "Text you later?" 

"Okay, but actually text me," Minho glares at Jisung. "Don't pretend I don't exist--we're _boyfriends_ now, remember?" 

Jisung rolls his eyes and waves at Minho over his shoulder condescendingly as he steps out of the library. 

Minho isn't so insufferably bad. 

\- 

"I need yellow paint," Jisung announces. 

Hyunjin is actually studying for once, bent over his desk and fiddling around with the memory card of his camera. His desktop is open to a folder that he's obviously trying to get to display the pictures, but whatever he's doing isn't working in his favor. 

For the first time is weeks, Jisung is the slightest bit freer. Winter break is soon, and Jisung's only worry is getting his art demonstrations out of the way. He's claimed half the living room as his art studio, setting up his easel by the wall and proceeding to splash various paint colors all over the hardwood floor. 

"What?" Hyunin mumbles as he pops the card out of the disc for the fifth time, inspecting it closely. "Why won't you--" 

"Yellow paint," Jisung repeats, falling backwards onto Hyunjin's bed. "Do you have yellow paint?" 

"Why would I have yellow paint, Jisung?" Hyunjin asks exasperatedly, finally sparing Jisung a glance. 

"I don't know, you have random shit in random places sometimes," Jisung explains, waving his hands around as he talks. Hyunjin mumbles something else before there's a popping sound and a loud betrayed yelp from him. Jisung sits up to find Hyunjin with a piece of his camera broken off from the rest of it in his left hand. 

"Oh shit," Hyunjin squeaks, looking at the broken camera. Jisung, unhelpfully, claps loudly from the bed. "Good job, moron." 

"Ah, fuck," Hyunjin groans, tilting his head back and screwing his eyes shut. "Now what the hell do I do?" 

"There's a film and photography store down by the coffee place," Jisung offers. "If you drop it off there they can probably fix it for you." 

Hyunjin's staring at his broken camera like it's betrayed him. "Yeah," he sighs, "there goes my pocket money for this week." 

"I can pay for half," Jisung says immediately, jumping off the bed and moving to ruffle through the boxes underneath Hyunjin's bed. Maybe he's got a tube of paint in there somewhere. 

"It's okay," Hyunjin sighs again, "I got it." Jisung moves around a box that looks like it might have extra film in it and reaches for a cardboard one labelled 'miscellaneous.' And while he does turn up with a toy lizard and a jar of glow in the dark fireflies, the only thing remotely close to paint Jisung finds is some dried-up air-dry clay. "Your phone is ringing, by the way," Hyunjin calls. 

His voice sounds further away, so Jisung guesses he's leaving the room. Faintly, though, he can hear the buzzing of his phone. He ducks back out from under the bed and picks up his phone without looking at the ID. 

"Hello?" 

_"Hi, Jisung!"_ Minho sounds way too cheerful on the other end of the line. Which means one of two things. Either he's trying to get a favor out of Jisung, or he's seen a kitten in a UFO. Funnily enough, Jisung thinks it's the first one. 

"What do you want?" Jisung traps the phone between his shoulder and his ear and walks down the hallway to invade the kitchen and steal a bite of whatever it is Hyunjin is most definitely eating. "And by the way," Jisung gets an idea halfway to the kitchen, "do you have yellow paint?" 

_"Do I have--no, why would I have yellow paint?"_

"Just asking. What do you want?" 

_"So there's a tee--eeny tiny issue,"_ Minho laughs nervously, _"and I ki-i-ind of need help, like, right now."_

"Should I be worried?" Jisung sidles up next to his roommate and opens his mouth expectantly and Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but drops a bite of rice in his mouth anyways. Jisung gives him a smile with his mouth full, and he flicks Jisung away with a disgusted look on his face. 

_"I kind of told Woojin-hyung you're with me right now, and he's kind of on his way over here and so I kind of need you to come here. Like. Right now."_

"Why the fuck would you do that, hyung?" Jisung groans loudly, _"I'm busy."_

 _"Jisung, please,"_ Minho sounds desperate, _"I'll buy you ice cream."_

"I'm listening." Jisung pretends he isn't already stepping into his shoes and pulling his jacket over his shoulders. 

_"And--yellow paint?"_

"Deal," Jisung grins, swallowing his bite of rice. "Where are you?"

 _"I'm at the animal shelter. It's by the book store right on the road off the west side of campus,"_ Minho explains, " _I'll buy you two tubes if you can get here in five minutes."_

"See you in five minutes, hyung," Jisung hangs up. 

And then he sprints faster than he's run all month. Well, actually, it's only the second time he's run all month--he'd been late to first lecture one day and nearly broken his knees trying to get to the lecture hall on time. 

Jisung is only running for the sake of ice cream and yellow paint right now, though. What can he say? He's an easy man to bribe. 

He doesn't make it there in five minutes. He makes it there in four minutes and twelve seconds, and then he's bursting through the door of the animal shelter, breathless and with his cheeks flushed from the cold. 

"Did I make it?" Jisung bends over to catch his breath, speaking between pants. Minho looks genuinely surprised, nodding quickly. "Yeah, you definitely made it," he confirms. 

Jisung looks up a few seconds later and immediately wishes he hadn't. Minho's holding a kitten and the image is probably the cutest thing Jisung has ever witnessed in his entire life. The kitten is small and ginger, and it's nearly asleep in Minho's arms. It's almost the exact same color as Minho's hair and his cheek is brushing gently against her fur as he nuzzles her ear gently.

"This is Nunchi," Minho says, smiling brightly at Jisung. "Someone found her on the road last week and brought her in. She had a broken paw, but she's getting better," he nudges the little white cast on her back left leg. 

Jisung shrugs off his jacket and puts it on the back of the chair before holding out his arms expectantly. Minho laughs, but he hands Jisung the kitten gently. Though she's nearly asleep, she blinks lightly at the change of human and looks up at Jisung confusedly before she seemingly decides it isn't worth it and snuggles into his sweatshirt. 

"Nunchi," Jisung repeats, patting the back of her ear gently with a finger. 

"Okay, great, now that you're happy, come into the back room and pretend you've been here for the past hour," Minho says suddenly, taking on a new demeanor. He jabs his thumb towards the door and turns around, so Jisung obviously has to follow him into the back room. 

The back of the shelter is small and cramped, but it's comfortably messy. There's a table with some adoption contracts littered over the surface and a few cleaning supplies rolling around on the floor, but there's a fluffy rug and the walls are filled with pictures of animals and assumedly their new owners. 

"Chan-hyung adopted his dog Berry from here," Minho says, pointing to one of the pictures. Sure enough, the frame holds a glass-covered photo of a smiling Chan with wildly curly hair and a wiggling puppy secure in his arms. "She still lives in his apartment. Technically he's not allowed to have a pet, but the landlord cut him some slack because he lives alone and Berry doesn't make a lot of noise." 

Jisung hums, smiling at the kitten now fast asleep in his arms. He sits down slowly, lowering his arms and moving until she's secure on his lap, her face smushed into the cloth of his sweatshirt. 

There's something so comforting about sitting on the floor of the back room in an animal shelter with a sleeping kitten in your arms that one can only ever speak about once they've experienced it. Because Jisung somehow forgets about how the place smells strongly of rubbing alcohol and chemicals because of the deep cleaning they probably always have to do, and he forgets about the hardwood floor that's poking pins into his legs, and he forgets about how cold it is in the back room. 

Because all he can see is the tiny little kitten asleep in his lap and all else he's aware of is Minho smiling down at them gently, and if Jisung could take a moment and save it forever he'd pick this one right now. Because it's so simple, so seemingly small, yet it's beautiful. 

"Smile," Jisung hears, and he looks up to find Minho holding a polaroid camera to his eye. He's grinning lightly, fondness apparent in the half of his face that Jisung can see and his left eye curved up into a little half-moon. 

In that moment, Jisung suddenly comes to the realization that Minho is beautiful. 

Well, shit. 

Jisung grins down at the cat and the camera shutter snaps, and maybe that's the closest Jisung will get to saving the moment. 

Minho walks over and plops down heavily next to Jisung, holding out the still darkening photo. He blows on it lightly and waves it in the air as he tries to hurry the developing, and then he holds out the picture to Jisung. 

"Oh god, I look disgusting," Jisung sticks his tongue out at the photo. It's a horrible angle and the lighting is, well, polaroid lighting, so his face is shadowed in an extremely unflattering way. 

"I don't think it's possible for you to look disgusting," Minho shakes his head, plucking the photo from Jisung's fingers and sliding it into the pocket of his jeans. Huh. If Jisung's lucky, maybe it'll get destroyed in there. 

"Why do you do that?" Jisung groans, rubbing his cheeks. They're already heating up, stupid betraying things. Minho just flashes him a smile over his shoulder as he sets the camera down and turns to face the doorway. 

" _Holy_ \-- _Jesus_ , how long have you been there?" Minho's voice rises in pitch, and Jisung looks up, alarmed. 

He whips around to face the door and find the source of Minho's freakout--and he finds Woojin standing there with his arm around Chan's shoulders. There's a strange look on his face, one between wonder and fondness and confusion. 

"You're-- _actually_ with Jisung?" Woojin asks wonderingly, his eyes flickering over to Jisung. 

He smiles sheepishly, waving at Woojin. "Hi." 

"Yes?" Minho fakes confusion, "He's my boyfriend?" 

Boyfriend. Jisung wonders if he's ever gonna get used to that. One of these days he's gonna slip up and forget he's even supposed to be fake-dating Minho. 

"See, Wooj, I told you you were looking into it too much," Chan complains, nudging Woojin's shoulder in mock annoyance. "Some things you just have to wait to find out." He winks at Jisung softly. 

"Huh," Woojin says, snapping out of his daze. "I guess you really do win the bet." 

"Yeah, I thought we established that last week," Minho says, shaking his head at Jisung like, _can you believe the nerve of this guy?_

Jisung laughs nervously to accompany Minho, already crumbling under Woojin's gaze even though he isn't even acting like he suspects anything. Yet, at least. 

"I don't know, this whole thing seemed so fishy," Woojin says, looking between Minho and Jisung, "so I figured either you wouldn't actually be here or you'd be plotting something but--wow, you _actually_ like each other." 

"Yeah, totally," Jisung says slowly, rolling his eyes. Woojin whips around, pointing at Jisung. "You see? That's what I mean! You're so-- _ugh_ \--" Woojin flails his hands, unable to come up with a way to explain what he's feeling. 

"I'm watching you two," Woojin says, air of suspicion rising around him again. He narrows his eyes and points at both of them individually, "I'm gonna find out what's so weird about you two, just you wait." 

Chan looks the tiniest bit scared as he reaches up and brings down Woojin's arm gently. "So," he says cheerfully, looking at Minho, "we came to see the new kitten you won't stop squealing about." 

Jisung breathes out a sigh of relief when Woojin looks away from him. When he's sure both Chan and Woojin are no longer looking at him, he makes eye contact with Minho and bites his lip nervously. 

_Busted,_ he mouths. Minho gives him a tiny shake of the head and taps his finger against his lips casually like he's thinking. _Quiet._

"She's over there," Minho says finally, pointing at the kitten who's still sleeping in Jisung's sweatshirt. Chan lets out an extremely unmanly squeal of delight and rushes over to inspect her quickly. Woojin, on the other hand, takes his time walking over, seemingly still not content with his suspicions. 

They don't spend long, though. Apparently they're on their way over to the store and they'd stopped only to see if Jisung was actually with Minho. Jisung's impressed at Minho's ability to foresee that happening, though he probably would have done the same. It is Woojin, after all. 

So they both breathe a sigh of relief once they've checked and double checked that Woojin and Chan are out the door. Minho collapses against the wall, hand clutching his heart dramatically. "Oh my God," he groans, running his hands through his hair. "That was the worst thing I've ever experienced in my life." 

"Tell me about it," Jisung says distractedly. Nunchi's stirring in his lap, her eyes blinking open and staring at him confusedly. She doesn't do anything except burrow further into his sweatshirt and let out a content purr, though. 

"I think she likes how you smell," Minho laughs. Jisung looks up, and then back down at the kitten in surprise. Sure enough, her nose is twitching against his sweatshirt--he doesn't even know what he smells like, he's not wearing cologne. She burrows pretty far between his legs, and Jisung pulls her back slightly, taken aback. 

"You little pervert," Jisung says softly, rubbing between her ears. All Nunchi does is vibrate under his hand as she purrs happily, though. 

The bells on the door chime, signalling someone's arrival, so Minho smiles apologetically at Jisung and disappears through the door in the front room. Nunchi, who's properly awake now, bounces off of Jisung's lap and walks tenderly, taking care of her back leg. 

"Smart kitten," Jisung observes. Her claws are clipped, so she doesn't scratch the floor as she parades around the back room, sniffing everything and pulling away from what she doesn't like. Jisung watches her pad from one object to the next before she finally decides she likes the spot next to the heater and curls up next to the blast of warm air. 

"I like the way you think," Jisung grins, pointing at Nunchi. Being a kitten, she has no response, but Jisung thinks he gets the message across. 

Minho walks back into the room then, with his jacket thrown over his shoulders and Jisung's jacket in his arms. "Ready to go?" He asks, throwing Jisung the jacket. 

Jisung catches it as he stands, pulling it over his arms. "Go--where?" 

"Didn't you want yellow paint?" Minho asks, pulling his phone into his pocket and waving his wallet. "I owe you." 

"If I remember correctly, it was yellow paint _and_ ice cream," Jisung corrects with a playful smile. Minho sighs heavily. "It's below freezing outside, Jisung, and you want me to buy you ice cream?" 

Jisung nods fervently. Minho throws his hands up in the air and shakes his head. 

"Alright, come on, squirt. It's getting late." 

When Minho wraps his arms around his shoulders this time, Jisung welcomes the warmth. 

Completely because it's cold outside. Only because it's cold outside. 

Definitely not because the weight of Minho's arm makes him feel warm and fuzzy and the sound of his laughter reminds Jisung of tinkling wind chimes. 

\- 

"Minho-hyung has to come over tomorrow night," Jisung informs Changbin one day as they're walking together off of campus. 

They'd run into each other as they'd exited the building, and now they're huddled together, hands wrapped in each other's because they're willing to do anything to stave off the cold. They do get a few weird looks, but Changbin just glares at all of them until they decide they'd like to keep their heads and look away. 

"Fine," Changbin says through chattering teeth. "Why?" 

"Because," Jisung shudders through a wind rift and grips Changbin's hand tighter as they wait for the crossing, "you invited Chan-hyung, and obviously he's going to bring Woojin-hyung, and they're gonna ask me why my boyfriend isn't present, and so now Minho-hyung needs to come, too. Plus I already told him he could." 

The crosswalk turns green and Jisung and Changbin hurry across the street, just making it onto the sidewalk before the light turns red again. "Tell him to bring food, then," Changbin gets out, shivering. 

"Yeah, sure. I'll get drinks," Jisung offers, his own teeth chattering now as they jog across the sidewalk. "Do you wanna just come to the dorm? You can sleep with me," Jisung says next when they come to the intermission where they'll have to split. 

Changbin mulls it for only a second before he nods, clearly too cold to come up with any reason not to. "You kick though," he complains. 

"I do not," Jisung says, and he jabs Changbin in the side just for good measure. "And also you need to act like you've already met Minho-hyung before, okay?" 

"Fine, just hurry," Changbin breathes, rubbing his thigh with his free hand. Jisung shuts up and obliges, sprinting the rest of the way to the building. 

The lobby is thankfully warmer than the outside, and both of them breathe a sigh of relief when they can exhale without seeing a puff of air leave their lips. They get in and out of the elevator before Jisung lets the two of them into his dorm--where there's loud laughter coming from the kitchen, and then quiet. 

"Hyunjin?" Jisung calls hesitantly as he kicks his shoes off. Changbin takes his mask off and shrugs the jacket off of his shoulders, placing it on the hook. When Jisung gets no response, he pads to the doorway of the kitchen and peeks in--

\--to find Hyunjin attached to Felix. By the lips. 

"Oh _Jesus_ \--my _God_ , warn me next time!" Jisung yells, turning right back around and nearly bumping face first into a confused Changbin. "Do not," Jisung says, shuddering at the thought of what he's just witnessed, "do _not_ go in there." 

Changbin, because he's extremely annoying and will never listen to what people tell him to do even if it'll kill him, walks into the kitchen and shrieks even louder. 

"I told you not to go in there!" Jisung calls down the hallway as he steps into the bedroom and drops his notebook on the bed. And then flops down, somehow already exhausted beyond belief. 

Changbin joins him a few seconds later, holding his head like he's been scarred. "You jerk, why didn't you tell me not to go in there?" 

Jisung rolls his eyes hard and picks up his sketchbook from the pile of books on his nightstand. "It's winter break," he comments lightly as he picks up a pencil and doodles idly, his thoughts far away from his fingers. 

"Yeah, thank God," Changbin shakes his head, breathing heavily. "I don't think I could've taken much more of that."

Jisung's pencil flits over the blank page freely, drawing off of its own accord at this point. He pulls his knees up to chest as he works, paying little attention to what he's drawing. "Have you gotten your project for the end of semester yet?" Changbin asks, plopping down on Hyunjin's bed and pulling his laptop out of his bag. He sighs when he realizes it's out of charge and then lights up when he spots Hyunjin's computer on the ground. 

(It's really not hard to hack his devices when all his passwords are hwangbeautiful.) 

"Yup," Jisung nods. It's been about a week since he'd gotten his final project. To be honest, he hasn't thought much about the whole thing. The due date seems far enough away for him and right now all he really wants is a mental break from school. Though he's gonna end up doing college work during the break anyways. 

"It's just a personal art project. The highest grade gets featured in the art show," Jisung explains, tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he works. Changbin hums as he logs onto Hyunjin's computer and clicks through tabs. 

"Mine is the same, kind of," Changbin says, "except it's a song. And it's in pairs." 

"The top song gets featured in the art show?" Jisung asks cluelessly. "No, you idiot," Changbin rolls his eyes. "Top song gets featured in the performing arts show." 

"Woah," Jisung looks up with big eyes, "That's huge, Bin-hyung." 

"I know," Changbin shakes his head in disbelief. "Thank God it's in pairs, or I might've dropped out already. I got Chan-hyung." 

"Lucky," Jisung groans. 

"Well, how would you have done a personal art project in pairs, though?" Changbin asks. Jisung looks up briefly to glare at him. "No one asked you for the logistics, hyung," he huffs. 

"Have you thought about what you're gonna do yet, then?" 

"No idea," Jisung sighs, putting down his pencil and kicking the sketchpad off to the side somewhere. "I'll figure it out at some point," he tacks on, yawning. 

When Hyunjin and Felix finally retract themselves from the counter, they share a bunch of cups of ramen all put together and somehow completely destroy Jisung and Hyunjin's kitchen before deciding they're too tired to clean it up and promptly falling asleep in various places. 

Felix and Hyunjin in Hyunjin's bed, Jisung on the couch, and Changbin in Jisung's bed because as much as he will deny it, he does kick. And really, Jisung is an amazing friend, because he's gonna wake up with inevitable back pain tomorrow. 

Felix and Changbin are both gone the next morning, but Jisung supposes he can let Changbin off the hook since his bed is made and there's a haggard little doodle of a smiling human waving on his bed. Jisung shakes his head fondly, but he folds up the drawing and shoves it in the wooden nightstand by his bed. 

Hyunjin's perched on one of the counters in the kitchen, desperately trying to rub something out of the marble with a Lysol wipe. Jisung raises an eyebrow at him, to which he responds by shrugging and smiling sheepishly. 

"Do I wanna know?" 

"Will you believe me if I tell you it's waterproof lipstick?" Hyunjin asks, turning back to the stain. Jisung takes a deep breath and decides not to question it any further. Instead he hops up on the counter next to Hyunjin to watch him scrub at the bright pink stain on the marble. 

"So," Jisung sings, poking his head into Hyunjin's line of sight. "Felix." 

"We are not talking about this," Hyunjin says immediately, using his free hand to turn Jisung's chin in the opposite direction. "Absolutely not." 

"I walked in on you two sucking face!" Jisung screeches, crossing his arms. "The least I deserve is an explanation, because the last time I walked in on you two you were four feet apart trying not to giggle at each other on the couch." 

Hyunjin smacks Jisung's arm hard, and Jisung yelps, glaring at the boy. "We were drunk." 

Jisung scoffs. "Unless you were drunk on tortilla chips and Coke Zero, I don't think so, Hyunjin."

"Look, I don't know, okay?" Hyunjin says finally, looking up from the stain to meet Jisung's eyes. Jisung reels back when he realizes Hyunjin's eyes are red-rimmed and teary. "He--left. This morning. Without saying anything." 

"What, you went to sleep without talking about it?" Jisung asks, bewildered, searching Hyunjin's face for an answer. When all he gets in response is silence, Jisung bites his lip and opens his arms. 

Hyunjin drops the Lysol wipe and moves forward to fall against Jisung's chest, trying to keep from actually crying. Jisung closes his arms around his roommate, resting his chin on Hyunjin's head. "He's an asshole, then." 

Hyunjin lets out a heavy breath through his nose. "I didn't realize it meant nothing to him," he says quietly, his voice shaking the tiniest bit. 

"He's an _asshole_ ," Jisung repeats. "I'm gonna _fight_ him," he adds determinedly when Hyunjin starts to cry for real and he can feel the first few tears dampen his shirt slightly. 

He can feel anger coursing through his veins when he thinks of the smiley freckled boy and he imagines socking him in the face repeatedly. While it helps, he wants nothing more than to hunt the boy down and do it for real. 

"You couldn't," Hyunjin gets out, "he took martial arts. But the offer is appreciated." 

Jisung feels Hyunjin pull his hand away from his side and snake behind him to pat his back gently. Jisung narrows his eyes and rubs Hyunjin's back comfortingly. "I'll fucking bite him or something then," Jisung snaps. 

Hyunjin snorts through his tears. "Kinky." 

Jisung spends the next half hour holding on to Hyunjin and going down a list of insults he's now deemed reserved for Felix. Some of them make Hyunjin laugh, and some of them make him cry even harder. So it's a while before he pulls away from Jisung and steps into the bathroom to wash his face quickly. 

When evening falls and the sun starts to go down, Jisung checks the text message from Changbin reminding him to pick up soda from the store. Jisung responds quickly and pokes his head into the living room, where Hyunjin's scrolling blankly through his phone. 

"Hey, Jinnie?" Hyunjin looks up questioningly. "Do you want me to tell Changbin-hyung not to have Felix come?" Jisung bites his lip. He watches Hyunjin's face morph into an undecipherable expression before the older boy shakes his head determinedly. 

"No, I'm--it's fine. I'm fine. I'm probably overreacting anyways," he shakes his head again. 

"Are you sure?" Jisung checks as Hyunjin gets up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. He nods, pursing his lips. "It's okay. Thank you for worrying, Sungie," he ruffles Jisung's hair as he walks past, probably to change. 

"Well obviously I'm worried," Jisung mutters, "you just cried on me for an hour." 

And then he shakes his head and moves into the bathroom to change as well. They stop by the store on the way to Changbin's apartment, picking up various different types of soda. The normal flavors, and then pineapple Sprite for Hyunjin and Orange Coke, for some odd disgusting reason. Still, to make Hyunjin happy, Jisung swipes his card dejectedly and winces at the sum. 

Changbin usually leaves the door unlocked, so Jisung just has Hyunjin push the door open and let the two of them in. They're the last ones to arrive--the sound of loud laughter is already audible from the living room. 

"Go ahead," Jisung gestures towards the living room with a lopsided smile. "I got it." 

Hyunjin obliges, taking his jacket off and tossing it over the back of a chair before disappearing into the living room. Jisung takes his time putting the cans into Changbin's nearly empty fridge and shrugging off his own jacket. He picks up the last twelve pack of cans and lugs it with him as he steps into the living room. 

Hyunjin's sitting next to Changbin, who's blissfully unaware of the whole Felix situation. Felix himself is on the other end of the room, laughing as he has a half-English, half-Korean conversation with Chan. Jisung forces himself to look away before he gets anymore violent urges towards the boy who's blatantly ignoring Hyunjin. 

Woojin is talking quietly with Minho about something, and there's a box of fried chicken open in the center of the room. And various other unhealthy food options--fried snacks, those deep fried balls of cheese Hyunjin is obsessed with, and a carton of some sort of sauce Jisung doesn't recognize. 

Jisung drops his own attribution to the snack pile by the chicken and drops down next to Minho. 

Almost instinctively, although Jisung knows it's an act, Minho puts his arm around Jisung's waist and pulls him closer without a dip in his conversation with Woojin. And for a second, just for a second, Jisung finds himself wondering how he would feel if it was real. If the intent behind that gentle pull was love instead of determination to prove a point. If the whole thing wasn't--a lie. 

And then the thought passes, briefly as it came, and Jisung leans into Minho's side and listens in wordlessly as they chatter on about the performing arts showcase and graduation and the number of semesters they have left. Changbin, at some point, shoves the box of chicken closer to Jisung and flops back into chatter with Hyunjin, so Jisung gnaws on a drumstick as Minho's conversation drones on. 

It's weird, because even though everyone he loves (plus Felix, because right now he hates the fucker) is in that room with him, Jisung feels lonely. Maybe it's because of the chill from the open window in Changbin's apartment, or maybe it's because of the silence absorbing him, or maybe it's because the attention he wants from one person in the room is being blown off. 

"Hey," Jisung hears, and then he's being shaken slightly, "you alright?" 

Jisung puts down the bone he'd been thoughtlessly chewing on and looks up to meet Minho's eyes, twinkling with the faintest bit of worry. 

"Yeah, just thinking," Jisung says softly, bumping his head against Minho's shoulder. "I'm fine, don't worry." 

Before either of them can say anything else on the matter, Changbin holds up his can of Orange Coke (the dumbass actually likes the liquid hell) with a malicious grin. "Let's play a game." 

The game ends up being Truth or Dare, probably the most cliche thing any of them could have possibly thought of. Still, Jisung sighs and moves into the circle Changbin makes them all sit in, and listens as Changbin explains the rules. Minho eventually lets go of him, but his hand stays close to Jisung's back. 

"If you don't answer your truth or you don't do the dare, you have to spill a secret that you've never told anyone before," Changbin explains. 

Jisung furrows a brow as Minho asks, "But isn't that the same thing as a truth question?" 

"No--it's different," Changbin waves his hands. "Just play along, okay?" 

"Fine," Minho settles back, rolling his eyes subtly at Jisung. Jisung smiles in return. 

"Okay, who wants to go first?" Changbin asks. Seven simultaneous hands point at Changbin, and cornered, he sighs and lets Hyunjin ask him the first question. They go around for a while and Jisung manages to learn things about everyone in the room that he's not sure he even wanted to know. 

Changbin spills that he'd had a mohawk once as a six-year-old, and, after being pressured by everyone, begrudgingly shares a crude picture of the messily cut hair. Hyunjin gets dared to chug four cans of coke, gives up halfway through, and with an extremely not subtle glare at Felix, shares that he hates someone currently in that room. For his sake and Felix's, no one interjects despite being well aware of who. 

Chan fulfills his dare, in which he climbs out Changbin's window, screams something about maple donuts, and comes back in looking real proud of himself. Felix gets asked whether he's got a crush on anyone, and begrudgingly, he replies yes, earning himself a glare from Hyunjin and an even stronger one from Changbin. Minho gets dared to dip chicken in a bowl of cereal, milk, and coke, and finish the entire drumstick. The fact that he calls it good after nearly makes Jisung throw up. 

And then it's Jisung's turn. Hyunjin smiles wickedly at him, pointedly looking past Felix and tapping a finger to his lips like he's thinking. "Truth or dare, Jisungie?" 

Jisung sighs, decides he's too tired to attempt to do something like scream at the neighbors through Changbin's way-too-thin-walls, and picks truth. 

"Who was your first kiss?" Hyunjin asks smugly.

Jisung snorts loudly at Hyunjin's face. He obviously thinks it's him--true, Jisung had kissed his roommate--they'd both had a thing for each other when they'd first moved in, tried it out, and decided they were way better as friends. Now, Jisung thinks it's gross that he'd ever even contemplated being with Hyunjin. 

No, it isn't Hyunjin. It is, however, someone else in the room, and no one knows it except him and that person. Well--actually, that person isn't actually in the room--they'd left to get more soda from the fridge. 

Jisung smiles innocently at Hyunjin. "What if you guys don't know them?" He asks, dragging it out as he waits for the person to return. 

"I think we know them," Hyunjin replies, clearly still strung up on the thought that it's him. 

Minho's looking at him curiously, his eyes wide and wondering. Jisung sighs, shakes his head, and looks up. "Fine. My first kiss was Changbin-hyung." 

" _What_?" Hyunjin screeches at the same time Chan lets out a surprised squeak and Woojin looks at Jisung with wide eyes. 

"You're lying," Hyunjin points a finger at him accusingly. "Oh, you're totally lying, I would've known about that--" 

But as if on cue, Changbin steps back into the room, confusion slowly dawning on his face when he realizes everyone's staring at him. "What?" He asks as he sits back down, looking between all the faces staring back at him. 

"Jisung says you were his first kiss," Hyunjin says, looking between the two of them disbelievingly. 

"Oh," Changbin's face slowly goes back to neutral as he picks up a fried cheese ball and sticks it in his mouth. "Yeah, so?" 

"You two _dated_?" Hyunjin yells. 

"Oh God no," Changbin says quickly, shaking his head. "Jesus, no. It was just a stupid thing we did back in high school. We were both dumb and curious, so we tried it out." 

Jisung nods along, falling quiet again. He lets Hyunjin continue his screeching fit at Changbin and lets himself fade out of the conversation slowly. There's a burst of salt on his tongue when he bites his lip, the taste of chicken sparking in his mouth before disappearing into nothingness again. 

It's dark outside, but Changbin's brightly lit living room makes it way too easy to see everything that's happening. Jisung's eyes flicker over to Minho almost on cue, though he'd had no intention of looking there. They've moved on to Woojin in the game, and he's currently being pinned down and tickled mercilessly by his boyfriend. Minho's laughing, his eyes squeezed up into those stupid crescents and pretty pink silk draping itself over his cheeks. 

He has an overbite, Jisung realizes, but somehow it doesn't make him look dumb. It makes him look prettier, in an odd sort of way. 

Jisung remembers reading Alice in Wonderland with his parents when he was little. He doesn't remember much of the story now other than something about a rabbit and a smiling cat, but all he can think of now is that he's tumbling down, down, down the rabbit hole and he doesn't see an end. 

Stupid Alice. 

"Jisung? You wanna come with?" 

Jisung blinks out of his daze and looks up at Minho, who's holding out his hand expectantly with an odd expression on his face. 

"What?" 

"Changbin-hyung dared Minho-hyung to go buy ice cream and he's asking if you wanna go with him," Hyunjin says impatiently. 

"Oh," Jisung shakes the haze out of his head and takes Minho's hand, pulling himself up. 

Minho's only asking him because they have to be boyfriends. Woojin and Chan are watching, after all. And Jisung tells himself stubbornly that he's only going so that they don't get busted. Even though Woojin hasn't brought up the fact that they look strange together in a week, Jisung still catches him eyeing them in suspicion when he thinks they aren't looking. 

"I'm taking your jacket," Jisung taps Hyunjin's head lightly as he walks past. Hyunjin just nods, leaning into Jisung's touch for a second before resuming his laughing fit. It's not that Jisung doesn't like his own jacket, it's just that Hyunjin's is warmer and the cold seems really unappealing right now. 

"Are you okay?" Minho asks as soon as they're outside. 

The night is cooler than expected, even with Hyunjin's jacket bundled around Jisung. He shivers lightly when a gust of wind comes their way, and he shoves his hands in the pockets of the jacket. 

"Yeah, why?" Jisung responds quietly once they've started walking side by side. Minho looks over at him with a raised eyebrow and Jisung feels stripped bare. There's something about Minho's gaze, kind of like Woojin's, that makes Jisung feel like all his secrets have been exposed for Minho to look at. 

"You've been so quiet tonight," Minho says finally when Jisung doesn't say anything else. "You're usually so loud." 

"Am I?" Jisung blinks against the wind as they walk. His mind flutters from the conversation to nothing in particular, like a carpet with its roses plucked threadbare. 

"Jisungie," Minho stops walking and Jisung pretends the nickname isn't making his heart do loop-de-loops in his chest, "is something bothering you?" He looks so genuinely concerned that Jisung almost feels bad for being so distant. 

"No," Jisung gets out after a few beats, forcing a smile. "I guess I'm just feeling sort of off." 

Not a lie, just not the exaggerated truth. 

"Are you getting sick?" Minho reaches out and presses the cold back of his hand against Jisung's forehead. "I don't know why I did that, I can't feel anything right now," he holds up his hand and laughs. 

"I don't know, maybe," Jisung shrugs half-heartedly. "I'm fine, though. Promise." 

He's definitely not getting sick. 

"You'll tell me if something about, well, anything really, is bothering you, right?" Minho asks, pursing his lips. Jisung nods with a smile. "Yeah, hyung, I will." 

Minho, satisfied, continues sauntering along the sidewalk. Jisung moves faster to keep up with his long strides after a few moments, jogging the last stretch to reach him again.

And then Minho reaches over and picks up Jisung's hand in his own, wrapping his fingers around Jisung's. Jisung nearly pulls back in surprise, but he forces himself to keep his hand where it is. 

Woojin and Chan aren't around.

"Cold, right?" Minho smiles at him, his cheeks flushed from the wind. 

Jisung's stomach does flips inside of him. Stupid, stupid, stupid Jisung. 

"Yeah, cold," Jisung says softly as the glaring red convenience store sign comes into view. 

Cold. Just because of the cold. 

\- 

"So when are you and the peach gonna fake break up?" Hyunjin asks, poking his tongue out the side of his mouth as he swerves to the left with his car. 

Jisung doesn't answer for a few seconds, focusing on knocking Hyunjin's car off the rails before he smiles, satisfied, when Hyunjin's car goes toppling over the edge and the words, 'You Died' appear on his half of the screen. 

Hyunjin pauses to glare at Jisung out of the corner of his eye before he hits restart, ending Jisung's character's victory dance on the left side of the screen. 

"I don't know," Jisung answers finally as Hyunjin starts a new game and their cars line up on the checkered starting line. "Minho-hyung hasn't mentioned it for a few weeks." 

"You're with him like, every day, Jisung," Hyunjin deadpans as the game begins and his car races ahead. 

Jisung would love to deny it, but he can't because it's true. Minho's almost always calling him here and there to do things with him, whether Woojin and Chan are around or not. Besides, Woojin has long since dropped his suspicions and come to the gradual conclusion that Jisung and Minho are in an actual relationship. Which, they're not, but the whole point of this had been to have Woojin believe it. 

Jisung makes a sharp turn and his car nearly hits the walkway to the left, stripping him of a few points. "Also are you supposed to like, hate each other after y'all break up, or what? Because I kinda like him, to be honest." 

"I don't know, Hyunjin," Jisung says exasperatedly, pulling his car ahead and using one of his energy boosters to shoot a round past Hyunjin. 

"Or you know, you could develop a massive crush on him or something and then you could start dating for real," Hyunjin suggests with a smirk.

Jisung's fingers slip on the race button and his car does a double-take before skidding and veering right off the railway two inches before it hits the finish line. Hyunjin's own car passes the line, but he's not looking at the screen anymore. He's looking at Jisung wonderingly, while Jisung is pointedly staring at the controller in his hands instead. 

"Oh my God," Hyunjin says, "oh my God, you _like_ him!" 

"I do not," Jisung says lamely, but honestly, who's he trying to convince at this point? Even his heart's given up trying to believe him because every time Minho does something remotely inciting Jisung's heart starts beating too fast. 

"Holy shit, this is gold!" Hyunjin says through peals of mellow laughter, his controller tossed somewhere in front of him on the floor and the game long forgotten despite Hyunjin's winner trophy spinning on the screen. 

Jisung hangs his head, letting his hair act like a curtain so he can shield himself from Hyunjin's laughter. He can feel his cheeks burning slightly, and he brings his hands up to cover his face with a groan. 

"I knew you liked him," Hyunjin cackles, "I knew it, I knew it, I _knew_ it! I knew the second you started blushing every time he smiled!" 

"I don't do that!" Jisung flares, glaring at Hyunjin fiercely. "Of course you don't, Jisungie," Hyunjin grins, looking absolutely delighted. 

"You are infuriating," Jisung moans, falling onto his back and gluing his hands to his face permanently. Hyunjin just climbs on top of him and seats himself on Jisung's stomach, leaning forward and prying his hands off. 

"And you're in _love_!"

"Who said anything about love?" Jisung sits up as much as he can, glaring at Hyunjin again. 

"Me, bitch!" Hyunjin throws his head back and starts high-pitched laughing again. "You are the most entertainment I've had all week!" 

Clearly karma hates both of them, because there's a sudden knock on the door and both of them freeze. 

"Did you invite anyone over?" Jisung asks slowly, and Hyunjin shakes his head. "Everyone we know would just barge in," Jisung muses, dropping his head backwards to look at the door upside-down. 

"You're closer, you get it," he says finally, jabbing Hyunjin in the ribs. "We're in the same spot!" Hyunjin complains. 

"Yeah, but you're on top, so it would take you less time to get to the door," Jisung explains, shoving Hyunjin off of him. And so, grumbling, Hyunjin makes his way to the door. 

"What--oh," Jisung hears from the front door and he sits up, craning his neck to see who it is. He senses the moment Hyunjin's entire demeanor changes, and immediately he gets up to go see what's going on. 

He understands the second he walks to the door: Felix is standing outside, a flower in his hand and a sheepish smile on his face. "Let me explain?" He asks hesitantly, holding out the flower with a giant grin. 

Jisung narrows his eyes, stepping in front of Hyunjin. Because Hyunjin is way too nice and he'd give Satan a second chance if he asked nicely enough. "How do I know you're not planning on fucking up again?" Jisung asks slowly.

He might not be able to see Felix completely through his almost completely narrowed eyes, but he thinks he's getting the intimidating image across. 

"Um," Felix bites his lip nervously, "pinky promise?" He holds out his pinky with a nervous smile on his face. 

Jisung looks distastefully at his pinky, and Hyunjin sighs from behind him. "Jisung, it's fine," he says, nudging him out of the way gently. 

"I got my eye on you, Freckles," Jisung says, narrowing his eyes at Felix again. Felix looks the slightest bit concerned for his safety, so Jisung steps out of the way, satisfied.

Hyunjin lets Felix in and the two of them disappear into the tiny kitchen to talk out Felix's issues. Jisung retreats into the living room, suddenly extremely lonely and friendless. 

So he pulls out his phone and opens up his contacts, his thumb hovering over the name he wants to click before he decides to take a chance and hits Minho's contact name. 

_"Jisungie?"_

"Do you wanna do something?" Jisung asks quickly. 

_"Do I wanna do something? Well, that depends on what you have in mind, Jisungie. Because if you're gonna ask me to come help you clean your dorm I'm very busy right now. But if you want to--"_

"I just wanted to know if you wanted to come play video games, Minho-hyung," Jisung sighs, rubbing his temples with his free hand. 

_"Uh, I'm actually at the studio right now. Wanna come keep me company?"_

"Studio?" Jisung blinks. 

_"Dance major, remember? I gotta finish my project. If you're bored, come sit with me."_

Jisung thinks for a few seconds, biting his lip gently. "The studio behind the library?" 

_"That's the one."_

"See you in fifteen minutes?" 

Minho laughs. _"Bye, Jisungie."_

Jisung gets up from his sad position in the living room and steps into the bedroom to grab his sketchbook and his art supplies. He might as well start brainstorming for his own project. Who knows? Maybe Minho will give him ideas. Minho seems to be floating around his head a lot lately. 

Jisung puts on his jacket and steps into his shoes, tucking the notepad and pencil case under his arm before he ducks into the kitchen to let Hyunjin know. 

"Hyunjin I'm--oh for fuck's sake you have got to be kidding me," Jisung shades his eyes and walks right back out when he sees Hyunjin and Felix sucking each other's faces again. "Felix Lee I swear to God if you walk out again--" 

"I got this!" Felix calls back, seemingly broken off from Hyunjin for the time being. "I'm going out, don't wait for me!" Jisung yells, not waiting for an answer before he leaves the apartment and lets cold winter air rush into his lungs. 

He's breathless by the time he makes it to the studio, lungs already sore from trying to circulate icicles instead of air and breath coming in pants when he steps in. And then realizes he's got no idea which room Minho is in. 

He pulls out his phone to call Minho, but there's already a text from him that reads ' _in 4c btw :p_ '.

And so Jisung walks to room 4C and pries the door open. 

His breath catches in his throat the second he walks in and for a second he's actually worried he won't be able to start breathing again. Minho's facing the mirror, rubbing one of his legs with a grimace on his face. Jisung's looking at his reflection but--

God, Minho is drenched in sweat, his skin shimmering under the studio lights with a sheen of sweat. His hair is soaked too, falling against his forehead in strands rather than a mess of bangs as it usually does. There's a white shirt clinging to his torso and he's wearing a pair of black shorts made of swimsuit material that only reach past his thighs, leaving the rest of his vanilla skin exposed. 

Minho looks up and his eyes meet his, immediately curving into crescents as he grins at Jisung through the mirror. "You came!" 

"I literally told you I was coming," Jisung says, stepping out of the door and letting it thump shut softly behind him. Minho shrugs, standing up and turning around so he's facing Jisung. 

"You might be bored in here, too," Minho holds his hands out apologetically, "unless you want me to teach you how to dance." 

"Let's not do that," Jisung grimaces, remembering the last time he tried to dance with Hyunjin, who seems to have a natural gift at it. It's best described as: normal people have two left feet, Jisung somehow has eight. "And it's fine. Anything is better than watching Felix and Hyunjin shove their tongues down each other's throats." 

Minho pulls a face, and Jisung nods. "Exactly. So trust me, I'd much rather be here." 

"Fine by me," Minho grins again. Then he nods at Jisung's sketchbook, which is still tucked under his arm. "What's that?" 

"Art major, remember?" Jisung holds up the sketchpad. "Figured I'd try to be productive too. Maybe you'll inspire me." 

"Inspiration isn't really my thing, but I'll try my best for you, kind sir," Minho sweeps into a bow, eyes twinkling with mirth. Jisung shakes his head, setting down his stuff before he pulls his jacket off and throws it in the corner where assumedly Minho's jacket lies.

Jisung opens to a new page in his sketchbook and thinks, but he's drawing a blank. The piece--it's supposed to be something that reflects a part of him. There's tons of things he could draw--a flower, for example. Jisung likes flowers. 

But a flower isn't going to get him into the art showcase because he likes them. A flower will only get him into the showcase if part of his life is devoted to flowers and he feels so passionately about it that he can find a way to make a flower uniquely beautiful. 

And right now, Jisung's drawing a blank on that part of his life. He can't think of anything his life is devoted to other than schoolwork and sleep--well, lack thereof. And while he's sure he could come up with fifty different ways to portray insomnia, he's not sure he wants that to depict his life. 

Minho turns on the music while Jisung taps the back of his idly against the page, lost for inspiration in the slightest. It's some American rap song, with a slightly trap style beat and pops of autotune here and there. Jisung's pencil begins to tap against the page to the beat unprompted.

Minho grins at him through the mirror again when he catches him looking, sticking his tongue out through his teeth briefly before his expression turns focused and then he begins to move. 

Dance varies. There are those who know how to dance, those who know how to move themselves with the beat so they flow naturally. There are those who like to dance opposite to the beat, creating a contrast that draws people's attention. There are those who dance gracefully, those who dance jerkily, those who spin and those who fly. 

There are those who allow the beat to flow through them and those who allow it to flow around them. 

Minho? Minho does none of those things. Instead, Jisung watches, mesmerized as Minho becomes one with the beat. The beat does not flow around Minho nor does Minho flow around the beat. Minho simply becomes the beat, melting into the music and twisting in a way that makes it look like he's falling through water ripples and soaring through the clouds. 

Minho manages to dance so powerfully yet so gently at the same time, manages to turn and fly in a way that his feet barely grace the studio floor. Jisung literally watches the music ripple through his body as he moves, and it's like Minho's dancing powers the beat instead of the other way around. 

And then the music stops and the magic dissipates with it, almost as quickly as it had appeared. Just like that, the glow is gone, and Minho is just normal Minho again, smiling at Jisung through the mirror and rubbing the back of his neck. 

"I fucked up that one up like hell," Minho says, "but yeah, that's what I'm trying to work with." 

If Minho calls that fucked up, Jisung doesn't even deserve to exist anymore. But he can't bring himself to say anything other than, "Holy shit," for the next five minutes. 

Minho seems to get the hint, though, because he winks at Jisung and unknowingly only makes his palpitations worse before darting over to change the song. 

Jisung is in awe of how many different styles Minho manages to move his body in. He spins a new glowing web of harmonies and ripples every time he moves, and Jisung's whole body kind of melts every time Minho looks up at him with a giant smile when he finishes a song. 

"Alright," Minho says finally, turning off the speaker. He only makes it halfway across the room before he collapses dramatically in the middle of the studio into a little heap of limbs. "I'm done for today," his voice is muffled against the floor. 

Jisung looks down at his still-blank sketchpad. It's totally not his fault Minho had been so distracting. If he had known he'd spend the whole time watching Minho free-style dance to different songs he wouldn't have even bothered bringing his art stuff with him. 

"Wanna go get lunch from Woojin-hyung's bakery?" Minho asks, perking up. 

"It's literally 8 PM," Jisung says, glancing at his phone. "Woah, already?" Minho whips his own phone out of his zipped up pocket and reels back when he sees the time for himself. 

Then he shrugs. "Wanna get dinner from the Lonely Star, then?" 

Jisung holds his arms out expectantly. "Help me up and I'll consider it." 

"I'm the one who's been dancing for four hours, not you!" Minho complains. He still helps Jisung up, though, his cheeks flushed this time from hours of movement. "I'm weak." 

Minho's hands leave his skin tingling long after they've left the studio and entered Woojin's bakery. Long after they've left Woojin's bakery and parted ways. Long after they've parted ways and Jisung is back in his own bed. Long after Jisung is back in his own bed and the clock strikes four in the morning. 

Long after the clock strikes four in the morning and Jisung's sketchbook is still painfully empty, his skin tingles with the warmth of Minho's hands that had let go long, long ago. 

-

They still haven't fake broken up. 

It's been over a month and Minho hasn't even mentioned fake breaking up. 

Which means Woojin and Chan still believe they're together and happy, which means every time Woojin and Chan are around they have to act like they love each other. 

In Jisung's case, it becomes increasingly easy as more time passes. Still, he tries way too hard to convince himself that every time he lets Minho hug him or ruffle his hair or buy him food or kiss him gently on the cheek that it's all for good reason. 

Thinks back to the mountain of cup ramen hidden in various crevices of the kitchen from visitor's grabby hands (read: Hyunjin and Changbin and now Felix, too, because even Hyunjin's love life seems to be progressing faster than Jisung's own.) 

Besides, Minho retracts all that whenever it's just the two of them, or they're in front of Jisung's friends. 

Well, not all of it. He's still touchy, just--in a friendly way, and it leaves Jisung frustrated to the point of confusion because are they friends or are they fake boyfriends or are they best friends or is Minho hinting that he likes him?

The last one is a stretch, Jisung would scoff if anyone ever told him Minho liked him. Still, it's fun to imagine sometimes. 

Jisung tries to subtly bring up fake breaking up sometimes just so he can get himself out of the hellhole that is Minho's fake love and move on with his life because he's fallen way too far down Alice's stupid rabbit hole and he just wants to climb back out already. But Minho either brushes it off, pretends he hasn't heard, or simply moves past it like the topic was never brought up. 

And Jisung doesn't know what that _means_. Is Minho not willing to give up their friendship just yet, or is he just trying to sell the lie, or is he just trying to drag Jisung's ass through the depths of hell and back? 

(While it certainly feels like it's the third option, Jisung's got a crazy inkling that Minho's moving more between one and two.) 

It's nearing the end of the year one day and classes have just started up again when Jisung drags himself home one day, utterly exhausted beyond belief. Which is funny, because he'd actually slept a decent number of hours the night before, yet he's struggling to breathe just as he walks up the steps to the apartment. 

Hyunjin is seated on the living room floor when he walks in, freshly printed photos piled up around him. 

"Look who's home," Hyunjin says from the floor when Jisung steps into the living room, still with his shoes and jacket on. "Meet up with your boyfriend today?" 

"Not my boyfriend," Jisung mumbles into the carpet where he's flopped down, decent distance away from Hyunjin's pictures. 

"Woojin-hyung thinks so," Hyunjin shrugs. Jisung glares at a little piece of lead on the carpet rather than Hyunjin, because looking up at Hyunjin seems like a lot of work and glaring at the lead is bringing him enough suffice. 

"Woojin-hyung is supposed to think so, that's the point." 

"Awfully long time to be fake dating someone, you know," Hyunjin sings, sorting through his photos. "Leave me alone," Jisung mutters, moving his face back into the carpet so all he can see is some stray fuzz way too close to his eyeball and darkness. 

"Hey look at this gross photo I tried to take of you the other day," Hyunjin waves a picture in the air. Curiosity takes over exhaustion and Jisung looks up at the picture Hyunjin's holding. 

It's of him, definitely, and it had clearly been captured in a moment of movement because the admittedly gross face Jisung is making is not one of good intent. "You always look like that, though," Hyunjin muses. "Maybe I should take pictures of me." 

"Hyunjin," Jisung groans, muffling his voice into the carpet again. "Please shut up." 

"What? I'm pretty, I might as well take advantage of it." 

"You narcissistic fucker, you're not supposed to tell you that. Other people are supposed to tell you that," Jisung moans loudly, knocking his head against the floor in a weak attempt to pass out. 

He doesn't hear Hyunjin's next reply because he really does conk out right in the middle of thinking up a good comeback to whatever Hyunjin was going to say next. 

Jisung wakes up to three things. 

His curtains still closed, him in his own bed when he's at least 76% sure he'd fallen asleep on the living room floor, and a headache that's threatening to split his skull in half.

Oh wait, four things. There's a Post-It note stuck carefully to the palm of his hand, which he only discovers when he reaches up to rub at his temples. 

_Hi, Jisungie. Before you get mad at me I came to wake you up because you were super late for class but you had a crazy fever so I let you sleep. I know, I'm amazing, don't mention it :P Anyways, I had to leave for class, but I put that crusty old humidifier next to your bed because you sounded like you were hacking out your lungs and there's some painkillers on your nightstand. I'm gonna pick up food for you on my way back from first lecture, so if you wake up before then sit tight. Love you, you incredibly stupid lumbering elephant._

_*Okay I'm home and there's some soup for you in the big pot we never use on the stove. I'm leaving for my next class, but I should be home soon by the time you wake up. EAT THE SOUP I PAID GOOD MONEY FOR IT AND THAT TOTALLY IS EQUIVALENT TO MAKING IT._

Jisung would have laughed, but he doesn't on account of the fact that doing basically anything gives his head a chance to let him know that it could explode. 

Still, he manages to make himself sit up and pick up his phone. The screen immediately makes his temples flare and he has to squint and hold it as far away as possible as he turns the brightness down all the way before hitting Woojin's contact and putting the phone on speaker. 

"Hi, Ji, what's up?" 

"Woojin-hyung," Jisung rasps, and there's a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone. "Oh, Jisungie," he says after a few seconds mournfully. 

"Alright, just--don't worry about coming by. The bakery can survive without you for a week. Are you alone?" 

"Jin's coming back soon," Jisung gets out between coughs. 

"Doesn't Hyunjin have classes at six too though?" 

Jisung just coughs miserably in response. "Do you want me to come over?" 

"Don't bother," Jisung sighs, "you'll infect you too." 

"Okay," Woojin says half-heartedly. "Feel better, okay?" 

And with that, Jisung falls back against the pillows, shutting his eyes against the dim lighting of the room and kicking the blankets far away from himself. 

The next part is that he isn't really sure how much of the rest of the day is a fever dream and how much is reality. So far, he's managed to kick the singing strawberries and the dancing Sharpies to the fever dream side of things, but he still doesn't know whether Hyunjin was actually putting a thermometer in his mouth or if he was imagining the string of unhappy curses that left his mouth when he took it out. 

He also thinks he stumbled to the kitchen and swallowed some of the soup at some point, but then again that could also be his brain making up scenarios. 

"Jisung," 

"Jisungie, wake up for one second," 

"Jisung, I know you're sick but if you don't open your eyes in the next five seconds I _will_ _not_ hesitate to scream in your ear." 

Granted, Jisung only really hears bits and pieces of that last sentence, but he registers the word scream and he opens his eyes reluctantly and blinks hazily until Hyunjin's face comes into view right above his. 

"You picked a really bad day to go down because I literally cannot skip class right now," Hyunjin says slowly, biting his lip. "So I'm not gonna be back until late. Can you keep yourself alive for a few hours until I get back?" 

Jisung nods blearily, letting his eyelids drag themselves back down. Keeping them open is a truckload of effort that he isn't willing to unload. He feels Hyunjin's hand press against his forehead again and then faint mumbling, but after that everything kind of swims together and he loses track of any sequence of events at all. 

The next time Jisung wakes up he's sure he missed something somewhere because there seems to be a huge hole in his memory. Last he remembers he'd been dying in his bed and Hyunjin had left, but he's--on the couch now, and there's a throw blanket that's definitely not his or Hyunjin's on top of him (or maybe it is, Hyunjin's mother sends him tons of things that he just shoves in the closet or forgets they exist). 

And there's a person who's one hundred percent not Hyunjin (not tall enough and Hyunjin's not supposed to be back until later), not Changbin (just a bit too tall), and most likely not Woojin because Jisung might be feverish but he's pretty sure Woojin's build is not that slim and to Jisung's knowledge, he doesn't own any neon pink highlighter sweaters. 

He only knows one person who owns a neon pink highlighter sweater. 

"Minho-hyung?" 

Minho's head whips to the right so he's looking at Jisung with that stupid smile on his face. His legs are curled under him and there's a--well, Jisung can't really describe it as anything other than a little bundle of fur on his lap because that's exactly what it looks like. 

"What are you doing here? How did you," Jisung pauses to cough into his elbow, "even get in here?" 

"Hyunjin called me. He said you were bedridden and he didn't trust you not to die so he dropped a spare key off at the shelter on his way to class," Minho explains, the smile etched permanently on his face. 

"Also," he starts again before Jisung can say anything, "Woojin-hyung told me to bring you some stuff he got you from his bakery. I think there's some rice and stuff in there. You want me to heat it up for you?" 

Jisung falls back against the cushions and shakes his head. He's not exactly nauseous, per say, but the thought of putting food in his body definitely seems like a lot of effort and it'll require him to sit up and all he really wants to do right now is sleep. 

"You should eat something," Minho reprimands gently, picking up the bundle of fur from his lap softly and holding it to his shoulder as he stands. He walks over to Jisung and then holds out the bundle of fur--"Here, hold her." 

Her? 

Minho doesn't give Jisung's brain enough time to understand before he puts the fur bundle on his lap and walks into the kitchen. Jisung understands when the furball starts to vibrate and then looks up at him with giant eyes. 

"There's a kitten," Jisung says blankly, looking down at the tiny ginger cat now making itself comfortable on his lap. 

"Yeah, you remember Nunchi, right?" Minho steps back into the living room with a bowl and a spoon in his hands. He sets the bowl on the arm of the couch and puts the spoon in his lap before sitting down next to him and reaching over to rub her under the chin. 

Nunchi moves forward to sniff the spoon before deciding it isn't of any interest to her and curling up into a furball again. 

"You should eat or you'll feel awful for days," Minho says gently, nudging Jisung towards the bowl. 

"I did already," Jisung says finally, before furrowing his brows in concentration. Or did he? "...I think," he adds unsurely after a few seconds. At Minho's raised eyebrow, he sighs and picks up the spoon, looking at the bowl of rice distastefully. 

"Plain rice shouldn't bother your stomach," Minho nods towards the bowl and looks up at Jisung. 

In the end, with a whole lot of coaxing and a few bribes that Jisung is going to hold Minho to account for the rest of his life, Minho manages to get Jisung to down about half the bowl of rice and then shoves him in the shower with the statement that he'll crust up in germs if he doesn't shower. 

So when he steps out of the shower, shivering yet admittedly feeling better, his bedsheets are changed and there's a bright orange pill resting on top of a ripped piece of notebook paper. 

_Bought fever reducers because you and Hyunjin are useless. Had to leave for the graveyard shift at the cafe. Feel better, Jisungie :)_

And so Jisung downs the pill, and promptly falls asleep on top of the sheets, too tired to get under the blankets. 

The next he wakes up is Thursday morning, with Hyunjin munching on a cookie at the edge of his bed and Nunchi sitting comfortably on his lap, batting at a loose string on the collar of his shirt. 

"Hey, Jisung," Hyunjin says, chewing on a chocolate chip, "when did we get a cat?" 

Jisung hadn't even known Minho was allowed to take animals out of the shelter. 

\- 

Jisung is completely at a loss. 

As in he's got absolutely zero idea what he's going to do for his personal art project, and the submission date is only traveling closer to him as the days flick by. 

To make things worse, during his class, his professor asks how many of them are at least halfway through. About half the class raises their hands to that. Jisung's one of the sheepish few who keep their hands down when he asks whether everyone has at least started. 

That earns him a disappointed shake of the head--clearly he's already been eliminated from the running of the art show. 

Oh well. 

"Jisung-ssi, will you stay back a second?" Jisung hears as he slings his bag over his shoulder and heads for the doorway. 

Jisung winces and turns around to face his professor, who isn't frowning, as he'd expected. Instead, he only looks mildly amused at Jisung's terror, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Jisung smiles nervously and rubs one foot against the back of the other. 

"Yes?" 

"I understand that you perform places, correct?" 

"Perform--" Jisung blinks quickly, taken aback. "Um, I--sing at the Lonely Star, yeah, but--" 

"As in, you sing for a crowd, correct, Jisung-ssi?" Professor Park raises an eyebrow, his gaze bearing holes in Jisung. 

"Uh, well--yeah, sure. I guess," Jisung shifts nervously, shuffling his feet against the ground. 

He has absolutely no idea where this conversation is going. There's no rule against singing on campus, is there? Is he supposed to sign some permit or something? Or did singing on campus become illegal or something? Is--

"Would you like to take part in the performing arts showcase?" 

"Would I like to-- _what_?" 

"You are aware that our school holds an annual performing arts showcase, yes?" His professor asks, both eyebrows jumping up to meet his hairline. 

"No, I am, I just--" Jisung steps back slightly, absolutely bewildered, "I'm not majoring in? Any of the performing arts?" 

"I'm aware of that," Professor Park sighs, "I'd be concerned if you were letting me know you haven't been in my Modern Arts class all semester." 

"I'm sorry," Jisung gets out quickly, his head spinning, "I'm confused--" 

"The performing arts showcase is generally open only for those who are majoring in one or more of the performing arts. However, the set was changed this year, and they've added room for two additional performers, either in or out of the majors. We've been told we can make suggestions, and quite a few of the art professors dropped your name." 

Jisung doesn't know any of the art professors other than Park and Choi. How on earth--

"Have you--you haven't even heard me sing--" Jisung stutters, looking around in confusion. 

"I have," Professor Park nods, "I wouldn't be asking you had I not heard you, Jisung-ssi. Are you interested?" 

"I--yeah--I guess?" Jisung rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "I mean, I--I haven't really sung in front of more than a hundred people, but--" 

"I'll send you an email with the details," Professor Park cuts him off not unkindly. "Have a good day, Jisung-ssi." 

And just like that, Jisung is jogging home with one new ball of stress tucked under his belt. 

He doesn't tell anyone. 

At first, it's because he doesn't quite know who to tell. The obvious choice would be Hyunjin, but Hyunjin has an issue keeping secrets and if Jisung told Hyunjin almost all of campus would know within the hour. Somehow. 

Then Changbin. Illogically, Jisung feels guilty telling Changbin. It's been his dream to perform in the showcase since he'd been in freshman year, and now his one chance stands on a pedestal that he's desperately climbing to reach while Jisung's been handed a free elevator up. And while logically, Jisung taking part in the showcase will have no effect on Changbin since he's just an extra and they wouldn't even be in the same category, he keeps his mouth shut. 

Seungmin--well, he could tell Seungmin, but at that point he's just looking for excuses and he comes up with various horrible outcomes, one of which ends in death, that could come out of telling Seungmin. 

And finally, Minho. 

Minho is strange. Jisung knows he'll be happy for him if he lets the older know, but the same reason as Changbin swirls around him. Though Minho's place in the showcase will be determined by his choreography and not by his vocals, Jisung can't help but feel like he's cheating them both by getting in. 

And so, he doesn't tell a soul. He keeps it trapped behind his lips, smiling and nodding along every time someone brings it up. Instead, he focuses on his own art piece. 

He's absolutely lost. 

Why didn't he just major in the performing arts? Surely his mediocre voice could have gotten him somewhere, even if he definitely wasn't the best. 

Now, all the techniques, all the history, all the different types of art--they'll only be helpful once Jisung knows what the hell to portray. He can't get anywhere with a blank canvas, yet the one in front of him stays painfully blank to the point that he wants to rip his hair out. 

(He doesn't, because he cannot pull off bald no matter how much he wants to say he can.) 

"What are you thinking so hard about?" 

Jisung looks up at Minho, who's standing over him with sweaty hair and a smile on his face. He'd been tugging on his lip as he'd stared at his sketchbook and the pages of doodles he'd made of absolutely nothing. 

He's been watching Minho dance all morning. Been watching his jewelry glitter under the studio lights as he moves, watching his expression twist to carry the emotion of the beat he's dancing to. Been jealous the whole damn time because it all looks so easy to him, yet here he is, with a new blank page and pages of rumpled designs folded away and scribbled through. 

"Nothing," Jisung sighs, closing the sketchbook and slamming it down next to him. "Nothing at all." 

"Come on," Minho says after a few beats, holding out his hand for Jisung to take. Jisung looks at him for a few seconds before he reaches out and lets Minho pull him up, breathing in the scent of stale sweat and printer cartridges. 

"What am I doing?" Jisung questions weakly, somehow already aware that he isn't going to get a coherent answer. He doesn't. Minho just leads him to the middle of the room and makes him stand there as he walks over to the speaker. 

"Hyung, if you're gonna make me dance, _your_ toes are gonna be the ones getting crushed," Jisung reminds the older when he realizes that Minho is changing the song. 

"No one is that bad at dancing," Minho waves a hand lightly over his shoulder as he flicks through songs, unsatisfied with every new item that passes under his thumb. 

"That's cause you've never seen me dance," Jisung mutters, biting his lip. 

Minho finally settles on a song and lets out a content hum. Jisung watches him hit play on the speaker before he bounces over and holds out his hands for Jisung to take. "I'll teach you!" He grins when Jisung shakes his head and whines about literally not knowing how to do anything. 

"I'm unteachable," Jisung moans, letting Minho take his hands begrudgingly.

A soft piano melody flows from speakers, and Jisung stiffens. 

He knows that song. 

Hyunjin teases him for listening to it all the time, because it's probably the cheesiest love song ever written. 

It's a love song about a girl and a boy who accidentally fall in love when they're not supposed to, and every word is crooned over the most depressing piano track ever. 

"Okay, follow me, now," Minho says, completely dismissing the fact that there's a love song playing on the speakers. 

Jisung swallows thickly and tries not to look at how Minho's muscles ripple through the sleeves of his shirt as he moves--but then he decides he also doesn't want to look at Minho's face, because he might actually combust--

"One, two," Minho steps to the left and places his left arm on Jisung's shoulder. "Three, four," he says softly, moving forward and twisting under Jisung's now outstretched arm and ending up behind him. 

"I can't do that," Jisung squeaks. "Sure you can," Minho grins, popping back up in front of him.

"Come on, I'll help you," Minho prompts him, picking up Jisung's left hand and putting it on his own shoulder. "Okay, now move back one step," Jisung steps back gently, wary of walking into the wall, "turn to your right a little bit." 

Jisung gets flustered and turns to the left instead, earning himself a soft chuckle from Minho. "Left, you idiot," Minho giggles, turning Jisung's body the right way with one hand. Jisung swears he feels Minho's hand linger over his waist for a second too long before it's gone, resting on Minho's own hip instead. 

"Now bend backward," Minho urges. 

"I'm not flexible enough for this," Jisung moans quietly, closing his eyes. 

"I'm not asking you to flip over, Jisungie," Minho sighs, "Just bend yourself back a little bit. If your back snaps I promise I'll push your wheelchair for the rest of your life." 

"Very reassuring," Jisung scoffs over his pounding heart, finally obliging and bending backwards the slightest bit. "More than that!" Minho groans, reaching forward with his free hand and shoving Jisung's shoulder down himself. "Like that," he says, his face suddenly way closer to Jisung's than it had been just seconds ago. 

Jisung gulps, turning his face in the other direction so he's looking at the wall instead. "Now just twist yourself under and come out behind," Minho instructs, fingers ghosting Jisung's back as he follows Minho's instructions and spirals, somewhat jerkily, under Minho's arm and reappears behind his right shoulder. 

"See?" Minho turns around and grins his catty smile, "nothing to it." 

"Don't even bother pretending that wasn't the worst dancing you've ever seen," Jisung says nervously, biting his lip. 

"I've seen worse," Minho mumbles, moving forward the tiniest bit. 

Jisung's heart picks up speed as the male singer continues to wail about his forsaken love interest, his cheeks warming up and his fingers trembling slightly. 

And then the song ends, and the magic is gone. The moment is gone as quickly as it came, and Jisung starts losing hope that he's reading it right because Minho pulls away quickly and darts over to the speaker to change the song. 

And before Jisung can even register what's happening there's a new hip-hop song playing over the beat and Minho is shaking his shoulders along playfully, his pretty white smile inviting Jisung to join him. 

There's no talk of the moment that had taken place just minutes before, not then, and not when Jisung lets Minho know he's gotta head home. No recognition of the fact that they'd been centimeters away from each other. No talk of feelings or anything. 

Woojin and Chan aren't around, and Minho is confusing. 

\- 

"Jisung," Hyunjin shuffles around the corner, yawning heavily. His hair is sleep-ruffled and his eyes are half-closed as he sways on his feet, leaning on the wall for support. "Why are you awake still?" 

"It's snowing," Jisung comments off-handedly, pointing outside. 

Just hours before, the snowflakes had started drifting from the sky and taken Jisung's attention from his sketchbook. He'd been curled up on the sofa, trying to spark his inspiration, yet to no avail. Really, just about anything probably would have caught is attention. 

Hyunjin follows Jisung's finger and looks outside the window briefly before turning back to Jisung. 

"Can't sleep?" He asks. His tone is light and his voice is still heavy with sleep, but Jisung catches the slight hint of worry that's grazing the rasp of his voice. 

Slowly, Jisung shakes his head, not taking his eyes from the window. 

"You said you'd tell me," Hyunjin says reproachfully. Jisung pulls his eyes away from the snow, finally allowing himself to look at Hyunjin's half-shut but warmly concerned eyes. 

"It isn't a big deal," Jisung mumbles. "Doesn't happen that often anymore." 

"Something on your mind?" Hyunjin asks finally, shuffling over and plopping down on their tattered old couch next to Jisung. He wraps himself around Jisung willingly, resting his head on the younger boy's chest and reaching out to intertwine their fingers. 

Jisung lets him, thankful for the warmth. Somehow, even though the heat is on, their dorm feels oddly cold. 

"You'd be sitting here for centuries if I had to tell you what's on my mind," Jisung laughs quietly, squeezing Hyunjin's hand lightly. 

"I've got time," Hyunjin says, looking up at Jisung. 

"You need to sleep, that's what you need to do," Jisung shakes his head, nudging Hyunjin's head back down. "So do you," the older snarks back. 

He doesn't let go of Jisung's hand, choosing to keep his fingers latched between Jisung's. 

"Go to bed, Hyunjin," Jisung says softly. 

Hyunjin is quiet for a moment, and then he looks up. "Are you thinking about Minho-hyung?" 

Jisung stiffens, and he's sure Hyunjin feels him stiffen, too. He thinks his next response through carefully before he delivers it, his tongue turning fuzzy as he talks. "Why would I be thinking about Minho-hyung?" 

"He likes you too, you know," Hyunjin yawns, curling further into Jisung. He's already dozing off, again, his eyelids fluttering shut despite him still being mostly awake. 

"No, I don't know," Jisung responds carefully, pulling Hyunjin closer and looking back out the window. 

The snowfall is inconsistent, and so is the sizes of the flakes as they flutter from the sky. Jisung watches as some of them make it to ground and melt as soon as they touch gravel, how some of them stick to blades of grass and add to the thin layer of white powdered on the ground. How some of them float away on a curl of wind and twist around in the sky rather than hitting the ground. 

Inconsistent. 

Minho is inconsistent. Minho makes Jisung's brain hurt. 

What is he to Minho? Worse off, what is Minho to him? 

Fake boyfriend, technically. Jisung doesn't know why that's still happening. Friend, yeah. Both ways through, friends. 

And sometimes, Minho makes Jisung feel like there might be something else burning in the flame that they've lit. Other times, he's so straight cut that Jisung thinks maybe he imagined the whole thing. 

Minho makes Jisung so, so confused. 

But he's not going to tell Hyunjin that. First off, because Hyunjin's already snoring lightly against him again, and second off because Hyunjin doesn't need to hear about how Minho's triggering his insomnia. 

Well, not Minho alone. He doesn't deserve that much credit. His art project. The showcase. Minho. All three of them together. 

Jisung startles when he hears a key turning in their door, suddenly straightening and sitting up, alert. Hyunjin doesn't budge, snoring on as Jisung's about to face a potential murderer. 

It isn't a murderer. 

It's Changbin. 

He walks in, clearly surprised to see Jisung still up as he brushes stray snowflakes that haven't melted from the shoulders of his jacket yet. 

"Hi," he whispers, his eyes flickering to the sleeping Hyunjin still curled against Jisung. Jisung relaxes, falling pliant against the sofa again. "Can I stay here?" 

Jisung nods wordlessly, and Changbin kicks his shoes off quietly, setting down a pile of books and a little silver case on the table. 

"Something wrong?" He asks as he walks into the living room, questioning silently why Jisung hasn't fallen asleep yet. Jisung shrugs a shoulder, offering Changbin a soft half-smile. "Nothing worth talking about," he answers quietly. 

Changbin furrows his brows, clearly wanting to question further. He seems to decide against it, though, settling for heartbeat silence instead. "Take my bed," Jisung whispers after a few minutes of Changbin placing himself strategically on a chair. "I'm not moving with this leech stuck to me." 

Changbin snorts and gets up, ruffling Jisung's hair as he walks past. Jisung doesn't ask why he needs to stay in a dorm when he's got a whole apartment to himself. He knows why. 

And if Changbin doesn't need to pry into Jisung's issues, Jisung doesn't need to pry into his. 

It's there, in the flickering light of gray dawn, that Jisung reaches around Hyunjin carefully and picks up his sketchbook from where he'd left it abandoned on the rickety old coffee table. And he lets the pencil lead the way. 

Art is not what Jisung wants it to be. Art is what it wants to be. So Jisung lets the pencil move on free will. 

It's there, right before the sun comes up and the sky is transitioning from dark to light, that Jisung closes his sketchbook and pulls Hyunjin closer to him with a sigh. It's there, in the suffocating silence, that he rubs Hyunjin's back gently, more for his own comfort than anything else. 

("You drool," is the only thing he says to Hyunjin when he finally wakes up, and he gets himself a nice little series of punches for that comment.") 

\- 

"Jisungie, you've gotta stop--" 

"No," Jisung glares at Minho, curling his hands protectively around his container of ice cream. "Don't touch my ice cream."

"Jisung, you're gonna make yourself _sick_ \--" Minho reaches for the ice cream tentatively, but Jisung just pulls it further out of reach and glares harder. 

"Leave my ice cream alone," Jisung hisses, sticking another spoonful into his mouth stubbornly. 

"This is really dumb, Jisung," Minho sighs, but he retracts his hand reluctantly. 

"I'm getting my money, Minho-hyung, leave me _alone_." 

"This is stupid," Minho says again, crossing his arms. 

"Stop trying to bust our fun, Minho-hyung!" Hyunjin calls from the other side of the room. He's swinging his legs, happily perched atop Changbin's counter as he watches Jisung fight to finish the container. 

"You're really gonna make yourself sick over a bet?" Minho says disbelievingly, shaking his head. 

"Tough, you made him be your boyfriend over a bet," Changbin cuts in, sneaky little smile on his lips. 

"That's different!" Minho sputters, "How is being my boyfriend affecting his health in any way?" 

"Oh!" Hyunjin lights up, "I have a list somewhere, I think--" 

"You brat," Minho lunges at Hyunjin, who squeaks and darts behind Changbin. Which is obviously not going to work since Changbin is so much shorter and Hyunjin's literally double his size. (Okay, not really, but teasing Changbin is fun.) 

Jisung ignores the dull nausea starting to build up in his stomach and scrapes the bottom of the container with his spoon stubbornly, shoving more ice cream into his mouth. 

Minho, seemingly appeased with having tickled Hyunjin to tears because Changbin had given him up to defeat in 0.2 seconds, returns to look over Jisung disapprovingly again. 

"When you're puking your guts up for an hour tonight don't come crying to me," he says flatly, eyes on Jisung as he lifts the final spoonful to his mouth. 

Jisung raises his arms in victory as he swallows and sticks his tongue out at both Hyunjin and Changbin. "In your faces, losers, pay up!" 

"No way," Hyunjin says, hopping over Changbin (at this point he's really just flexing the fact that he's taller), "you can barely even finish one serving of cup ramen, there's no way you ate that whole thing." 

Jisung did eat that whole thing though, and after inspecting both him, the container, and the trash, (which is stupid because he'd literally been eating it right in front of them) Hyunjin and Changbin hand over 15,000 won each, grumbling under their breaths. 

"I just made 30,000 won," Jisung sticks his tongue out at Minho, too, "fuck you, too." 

Minho raises his hands, an amused smile on his face. "I was just trying to look out for your safety. Trust me, 30,000 won isn't gonna be worth it when your stomach rebels against you in precisely," he stops to glance at the clock, "two and a half hours."

And two and a half hours later Jisung's having the worst cramps he's ever had in his entire life and Minho's looking at him smugly on the other side of Changbin's room. 

"Ow," Jisung moans, curling into himself. 

"I told ya so," Minho sings, crossing his arms with a glint in his eye. 

"Can you get me painkillers?" Jisung groans, wrapping his arms tighter around his stomach. 

"First say Minho-hyung, I was wrong and you were right and you're the smartest most beautiful human--" 

"I'll get them myself," Jisung cuts him off, moving to sit up. 

"Okay, okay, I'm going!" Minho laughs, "I'm kidding, get your ass back on the bed. Painkillers I will do, but I am not going to clean up any sort of bodily fluid off of the floor." 

Jisung curls back up on the bed as Minho leaves, laughter still spilling out of his lips. He's back a few seconds later with Changbin's bottle of pills in his hand, and he shakes two of them out into Jisung's palm. 

"You want water?" Minho holds up the water bottle in his left hand and Jisung shakes his head, dry swallowing the pills with a grimace. 

"It really hurts, hyung," Jisung moans, looking at Minho helplessly.

Minho's biting back a smile. "I would assume it hurts, that carton was meant for five people in a span of two weeks, not one person in a span of two hours." 

"Not helping," Jisung glares. Another wave of pain and nausea courses through his stomach and he clamps his lips shut, settling for squeezing his eyes closed and trying to breathe deeply. 

"Okay, uh," Minho sits down on the edge of the bed. "You want me to tell you a story?" 

"What, the Three Little Pigs?" Jisung says bitterly out the side of his mouth. "Or Little Red Riding Hood?" 

"Excuse you, I have great stories. For example," Minho starts, rubbing Jisung's knee gently, "one time I was walking to get Chan-hyung from his lecture hall so we could get lunch, and I nearly tripped over a squirrel." 

"How is that in any way entertaining?" Jisung asks, squinting his eyes at Minho.

Minho shrugs. "Dunno. It distracted you though, right?" 

"Yeah, for four seconds," Jisung grumbles. "Tell me a longer story." 

"Okay, uh--okay. My cousins used to tell me this story when I was little and it used to scare the shit out of me," Minho laughs breathily, "but it's honestly the dumbest thing now that I think about it." 

"Just talk," Jisung sighs, tucking his legs in as far as he can, a grimace on his face. 

"Alright. So basically, there was this family who lived in this really old town that barely had any people in it," Minho starts. "So there were two parents and three kids, and one night the parents called a babysitter so they could go out and get dinner." 

"Isn't that how literally every horror story starts?" Jisung breathes out. Minho glares, hitting his knee gently. "Shut up, you wanted the story. Anyways," he says, going back to rubbing circles on his knee. 

"So the babysitter was at home with the kids, and after dinner she went upstairs and put all three of them to bed. And then she was alone downstairs, so she started flicking through random channels on the TV. She was all alone, but at some point she started feeling like someone was watching her," Minho shifts a bit, "so she looked out this big window on the left wall." 

He pauses to switch position before continuing, "And she saw this man standing outside, grinning at her through the window." 

"Oh Lord," Jisung shakes his head, "how absolutely generic." 

"My God, just let me tell the story, you brat," Minho sighs. "So she saw this man, so obviously she got kinda scared because like, hello, creepy guy looking at her through the window with a creepy smile on his face. So she turned the other way and started switching channels again because she figured the guy would just go away on his own." 

"You see," Jisung interrupts, clutching his stomach, "this is where it starts getting stupid. What dumbass wouldn't get up and just close the blinds?" 

"You're ruining the story, Jisung!" Minho complains. "You're the one who wanted me to tell you a story, so shut your mouth and let me finish the damn thing already." 

Jisung rolls his eyes, grumbling, but he lets Minho continue quietly anyways. 

"After a while, she could feel someone looking at her again, so she looked out the window again. And she saw the same man, but he was holding a knife this time, with the same creepy smile on his face." 

Jisung bites back the urge to ask why the fuck she literally didn't get up and close the blinds for the second time. 

"So obviously she started getting scared. She played the TV louder and she considered calling the police, but she figured that the guy was just some looney old person and he would go away. This time, though, she got up and went upstairs to make sure all the kids were still okay. So since they were still sleeping properly, she went back downstairs and looked out the window again, and there was no guy." 

"Just call the fucking police," Jisung bursts out, removing one of his hands for the sole reason of making a flustered hand wave. "How dumb do you gotta be, seriously?" 

Minho completely ignores him this time, instead talking over his extremely logical statement. "She kept watching the TV, right, and suddenly she felt the same thing again. So again, she looked out the window--and this time, she saw the same man, with the same knife in his hand. Except this time, it was covered in blood." 

"Please, please, please tell me this bitch called the fucking police," Jisung begs. Minho laughs. 

"So she called the police, because she obviously started panicking. She told the police there was a man with a bloody knife staring at her from outside, and they showed up immediately. She let them in, and she pointed to the window that the man was standing outside of." 

Jisung's watching Minho now, eyes focused on his lips more than he is on the story. 

"But you know what they told her?" 

"That she's a fucking dumbass?" Jisung suggests. 

"Well," Minho shrugs thoughtfully, "in a way, yes. They looked at the window and they told her that it wasn't a window after all." 

"What the fuck," Jisung groans. "What even--" 

"They told her it was a mirror, not a window. So creepy bloody knife guy was behind her the whole time. She went upstairs to check on the kids, and they were all slaughtered in their sleep. And then she turned around and creepy knife guy was right behind her, and he smiled really big at her and then killed her, too. The end." 

Jisung blinks, pain in his stomach completely forgotten. "So I'm guessing logic just decided it didn't want anything to do with that story and just dropped out in the middle then, right?"

Minho shrugs. "It took your mind off of it, didn't it?" He points to Jisung's stomach region. 

Jisung blinks. "I guess. Don't give yourself too much credit, it was only because I was trying to figure out where the fuck the logic in that story went." 

"Sure you were, Jisungie," Minho grins. "Feeling better?" 

Jisung purses his lips. "I guess," he laments, narrowing his eyes at Minho. "Because of the painkillers." 

"Okay, Ji," Minho grins again, patting his knee gently. "So what's up with you these days?" 

"That was...how did you change the subject that fast?" Jisung blinks, confused. 

"It's a gift," Minho winks, and for some reason that makes Jisung's stomach turn for a reason other than the amount of ice cream he'd just ingested. 

"I'm stressed," Jisung answers finally, probably much more dramatically than necessary. "I don't know what to do for my final semester project." 

"Isn't that everyone though?" Minho stretches, and then flops down on his back next to Jisung. "I mean, I've barely even started mine." 

"I'm serious," Jisung whines, jabbing Minho in the side. "I literally have no idea where to even start. Forget getting into the showcase, I just want to pass the class at this point." 

"I bet you'll get into the showcase," Minho says thoughtfully, flipping over to face Jisung. "You strike me as one of those people who complains that they'll fail the whole semester and then end up having the highest final grade." 

"Trust me, that is not going to happen," Jisung shakes his head, wrapping his arms around himself tighter. "I'm not even gonna have a project to give in at this point." 

"Alright, here, I'll make you a deal," Minho stretches his legs and yawns. "you get into the showcase, and I'll--initiate the fake breakup and put it on me." 

"Uh, no," Jisung says, putting a hand over Minho's face, "you were gonna do that anyways. And the showcase is out of my league." 

"I was just trying to motivate you," Minho shrugs. 

It's silent for a few minutes, and then Jisung turns to look at Minho. The sunlight's spilling over his tan skin so he glows the color of milky coffee and his eyelashes are casting shadows over his cheeks as he flutters his lids shut. 

He's beautiful. 

"If I do get in, though," Jisung swallows thickly, "you--you'll come see me, right?" 

"I would've been there even if you didn't invite me, Jisungie," Minho smiles, even with his eyes closed. "That you don't have to worry about." 

And Jisung has to hold back the next words threatening to leave his lips, because there's a warm fuzzy feeling pooling in his stomach and curling around the cramps ripping through his ribs. Minho falls asleep there on Changbin's bed, and embarrassingly enough, Jisung falls asleep with his head resting on Minho's chest and his arms curled around him. 

(And they both wake up to Hyunjin's very not quiet giggling and the flash of his camera before he and Changbin are racing away with a squeak. 

-

"Yeah, you got this! Keep going! Amazing job! Motivational stuff that's supposed to push you to work harder!" 

Jisung is about four seconds away from killing Hyunjin. 

Maybe he shouldn't be, because Hyunjin really is just trying to be helpful, but he's frankly doing a god-awful job of it. Jisung opts for throwing his paintbrush down with a groan and flopping off of his stool onto the living room floor. 

"Are you dead?" Hyunjin's cautious question comes from above Jisung's head. And then there's tentative prodding in his side, which Jisung simply just doesn't have the energy to react to. 

"Please don't be dead, I'm too young to be falsely arrested for murder," Hyunjin says worriedly. Jisung snorts, but he rolls over to satisfy Hyunjin's concerns anyways. 

"Come on, this is getting pathetic, Jisung," Hyunjin sighs, jabbing his side with his foot. "You're pathetic. You need help." 

"I already _know_ that," Jisung glares at Hyunjin, mildly irked. "And you suck at being helpful." 

Hyunjin puts his hands in the air and moves his lollipop to the side of his mouth with his tongue. "I'm here for moral support, not physical help. I have no idea how to paint." 

"No, normal people have no idea how to paint. You've got no idea how to even hold the fucking brush," Jisung grumbles, burying his face in his arms and wallowing in his sorrows. That lasts for about five seconds before Hyunjin's jabbing his side with a foot again. 

"Get _up_ , you flop," Hyunjin groans. "You're too heavy for me to lift." 

Jisung, to his credit--well actually, absolutely against his credit, does not budge. "I give up," he mutters under his breath. "I'm gonna run away and join a traveling circus and train lions for a living." 

Hyunjin snorts loudly at that, which, rude. "First of all, you're way too much of a scaredy-cat to do that. And second of all, you and lions are not a good match," he says blatantly, sucking on his lollipop obnoxiously loudly. 

"Says who?" Jisung perks up. "Lions are just overgrown cats. Nothing to it." 

"You go train a lion then," Hyunjin sighs, "and come back when you can make it jump through a flaming hoop." 

"You're an asshole," Jisung decides, flopping back against the floor and smacking his chin against the studio wood. "Ow, fuck." 

"I changed my mind, you don't need help," Hyunjin says after a couple of beats of silence, "You need an intervention, you weirdly heavy ridiculously single octopus." 

"Did you just jab at my dating life?" Jisung sits up, shooting fiery bullets at Hyunjin through his glare. "You, of all people, have zero right to jab at anyone's dating life, you dick-deprived prick." 

Hyunjin squawks in offense around his lollipop, and then he lunges at Jisung because the obvious solution to this is to turn to violence. Somehow, Hyunjin ends up straddling JIsung on the floor, his hands pinning JIsung’s shoulders to the ground and Jisung kicking hard at his stomach to get him off. 

"I have a boyfriend, you _fucker_!" 

"Yeah," Jisung rolls his eyes, "and clearly you're not getting _any_ action because--" 

"What in--" 

Jisung and Hyunjin look at the door at exactly the same to catch sight of an exasperated Changbin stepping into their dorm, stress lines already appearing in between his eyebrows and complete done-ness on his face. 

"He started it," Jisung and Hyunjin blurt out at exactly the same time, and Jisung glares at Hyunjin because he's a lying asshole and Jisung definitely did not start this. 

"Jisungie, you're kind of more sensible, you should know better," Changbin sighs, rubbing his temples tiredly. Jisung's jaw drops because he's being unfairly blamed for this mess. Hyunjin gets off of him, grumbling at that, at another well-timed glare from Changbin. 

"But it's his fault!" Jisung squawks, brushing himself off once Hyunjin's located far away from him. Hyunjin at that moment decides to very dramatically take wind of Jisung's kicks and grabs his stomach, falling to the floor in mock-extreme pain. 

"Bin-hyung, he bruised my abs," Hyunjin moans, clutching his stomach pitifully and making puppy-dog eyes at the older man. Jisung is actually going to murder Hyunjin. 

Once Changbin is gone. 

"What abs?" Jisung grumbles under his breath, "I kicked pudge." 

Hyunjin doesn't hear him, but it's satisfaction enough to Jisung. Changbin just glares at Hyunjin again, a look that tells him to drop it. He does, reluctantly so, but he does, let go of his stomach and sit up sheepishly.

Changbin crosses the small room and drops his bag down against the far wall, giving Jisung an unimpressed look. "You're clearly hard at work." 

"I was," Jisung sputters, while Hyunjin snickers in the background. "You walked in--on my break." 

“He’s been lazing around all morning,” Hyunjin whispers aggressively. Jisung turns his icy glare on him, and he cowers against the corner. 

“Ji, isn’t your submission date, in like, a month?” Changbin asks, flopping down on the floor with his hands laden with notebooks. 

“Three quarters of a month, but yeah,” Jisung groans, flipping over to lie on his stomach instead. “I can’t think of anything, I’m not creative enough for this shit. I wanna go train lions.” 

“Oh for fucks’s sake,” Hyunjin moans at the same time Changbin throws him an amused eyebrow raise. 

“Lions?” He asks. 

“I could do it!” Jisung wails when both Hyunjin and Changbin fall into fits of laughter. “You both suck, oh my God.” 

“I don’t know, you and lions don’t seem like such a good match,” a new voice says from the doorway.

Jisung jolts up and Hyunjin and Changbin both snap their heads in the direction of the voice. 

And then Minho pokes his head around the corner and walks into the dorm, barely fitting into the living room with the number of people and the amount of stuff now inhabiting it. 

"Okay, well, no one asked you, Minho-hyung," Jisung mutters, shoving his face back in his arms. "And seriously, how do you keep getting in here?" 

"Okay this time you people didn't lock the door," Minho puts his hands in the air. "I was gonna knock, but then the door was unlocked so I figured I'd just come in." 

"Changbin-hyung's fault," Hyunjin says immediately, point at Changbin. "He walked in here last." 

Changbin squawks offendedly, but he makes no move to deny it in the slightest. Minho rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

"What are you even doing here?" Hyunjin asks, looking at Minho with big eyes. Jisung stuffs his face further into the carpet and wonders how much longer he needs to stay like this before his air supply cuts off and he suffocates. 

"I came to ask Jisung if he wanted to come say bye to Nunchi," Minho explains. 

Jisung looks up quickly. "Say bye?" he questions at the same time Changbin goes, "Who the fuck is Nunchi?" 

Minho nods, glancing at the clock. "Someone's adopting her, so I thought you might like to say bye. You wanna come? I'll buy you lunch after." 

"Yeah, give me a second," Jisung hops up, brushing his clothes off haphazardly. 

"How come only Jisung gets to go say bye to Nunchi?" Hyunjin whines. "It's not my fault you only like Jisung." 

It's Jisung's turn to squawk now, and he offers Hyunjin swift kick to his foot as he passes. 

"Nunchi is a _kid_?" Changbin looks horrified. 

" _Cat_ , Changbin-hyung, Nunchi is a _kitten_ ," Jisung says exasperatedly. 

"I'll meet you outside?" Minho asks. Jisung nods quickly, and Minho turns on his heel and exits the dorm. 

Hyunjin's smirking at him in that way that never means anything good as he goes for his own shoes, and he wants nothing more than to go slap it off his face. He refrains himself, though, because he doesn't feel like being yelled at by Changbin again. 

"Honestly you might as well start dating for real," Changbin shakes his head. 

Jisung wishes. 

(No, he doesn't. Maybe he does. Jisung doesn't know. He's going crazy.) 

-

Jisung's goodbye ceremony for Nunchi isn't really a ceremony, since it basically consists of her looking up at him, blinking, and turning away and stalking to the other end of the room. 

"She probably doesn't remember you," Minho smiles apologetically, picking up the kitten and bringing her back to Jisung's feet. 

"You little rascal, after all I've done for you?" Jisung scowls at the cat, who's now decided she likes his shoes and is rubbing herself against them, vibrating happily. 

The funny thing is that he doesn't see anyone else in the shop when Minho had clearly let him know that Nunchi was going to be adopted. 

"So where are her owners?" Jisung asks, finally bending down to pick her up and cradle her gently. 

"They're just finishing up signing the papers," Minho says casually, pointing to the back room. "Speaking of, I should go help with that. Stay with her for me." 

Minho walks out of the room, and Jisung sits down cross-legged against the wall. "It's just you and me now, Furball," Jisung says, setting Nunchi down on his lap. She barely reacts to the change of position before she gets and starts padding at one of his thighs curiously, seemingly attracted by the pattern of his pants. 

"Okay!" Minho darts back in, a shit-eating grin on his face. "We're all set." 

"Right, so," Jisung cranes his neck to look behind for other people, but no new set of owners steps out from behind the older boy, "where are they?" 

"They're right here," Minho says, walking over to Jisung and picking the kitten up off of his lap. 

It takes Jisung an embarrassing number of seconds to actually understand what's happening before he realizes the outcome of the situation. 

"Don't you already have three cats, though?" Jisung asks, blinking owlishly at MInho. "And now I have four," Minho grins, rubbing behind Nunchi's ears affectionately. 

"You know, most people have to wait until they get all old and crusty to do this," Jisung shakes his head, "but you're already a cranky old cat lady, Minho-hyung." 

"I am not cranky!" Minho sputters, and then he folds his fingers gently over Nunchi's ears. She doesn't seem to mind very much, butting her head up into Minh's touch. "Don't listen to him, he's the cranky one," he whispers softly, glaring at Jisung over her ears. 

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jisung rolls his eyes, walking towards them. "Here, give me that." 

_"Eek!"_ Minho whirls away from Jisung, curling his arms protectively around Nunchi. "Did you just call Nunchi ' _that_ '?" 

"Not the _cat_ , _stupid_ , your _bag_!" Jisung yells, reaching for the bag that's dangling dangerously off of Minho's one shoulder. "You're gonna drop it or crush Nunchi or something terrible and it's giving me anxiety." 

"Oh," Minho laughs, relaxing. "Here," he places Nunchi in Jisung's arms carefully before pulling the strap off his shoulder and putting it on the ground. He takes Nunchi back and lets Jisung put the bag on his own shoulders. "So, lunch?" 

"Sure, Minho-hyung," Jisung shakes his head with a sigh, "lunch." 

It's over bottles of cola and grilled tripe that Jisung finds himself trying not to stare at the way Minho licks his lips excessively slowly or makes a show out of chewing on his food. Which shouldn't even be the least bit attractive--to say the least, it should be kind of gross, but either Jisung's further down the rabbit hole than he'd thought or he's just going crazy. 

Or a bit of both, which honestly seems the most plausible at the moment. 

It's when Minho purposely drinks his cola ridiculously slowly and literally looks directly at Jisung as he swipes his tongue over his lips afterwards that Jisung realizes that he's doing it on purpose. 

"Okay, what the fuck are you doing?" Jisung asks finally, putting down his own drink with a thud and raising his eyebrow exasperatedly at Minho. 

"What do you mean?" And if the excessive fluttering of the lashes isn't enough of a giveaway that Minho is totally not innocent, the way he's purposely raised his voice a pitch higher than how he usually talks is revealing on its own. 

"Hyung," Jisung raises his other eyebrow too, just for effect. "Are you trying to _seduce_ me?" 

Jisung had previously thought the heat of the food had been what was causing Minho's cheeks to flush. But when they immediately turn pink at Jisung's words, he realizes that that is definitely not the case and he's definitely missed something because there seems to be a giant gaping hole in the sequence of things that have happened so far. 

"We are boyfriends, aren't we?" Minho shrugs, the flush disappearing from his cheeks as he leans back, taking his drink with him. 

Jisung puts down his chopsticks, utterly confused. 

"Okay, I'm not understanding you here, hyung. We're fake boyfriends--still, for some reason--" 

"Are we, though?" Minho leans forward, all traces of humor gone from his face. 

Jisung backs up, suddenly nervous for some reason. Minho's demeanor has completely changed, his edges sharpening out and returning back to that boy he'd been when he'd turned up at Jisung's door asking him to be his boyfriend in exchange for 63 cups of instant ramen. 

"Yes?" Jisung doesn't mean for his voice to come out all squeaky like a teenage girl's, but it does, much against his will. "We are?" 

"What if we weren't, though?" Minho comes closer, pushing the plates of food out of the way and resting his elbows on the table. 

"Okay, Minho-hyung, I'm confused--" 

"Don't you think there was a reason I asked you to be my fake boyfriend, Jisungie?" Minho says quietly, his eyes shooting dark circles into Jisung's. 

"I owed you a favor?" Jisung squeaks. 

Minho laughs. "I could've asked any dumbass on the street to be my fake boyfriend, Jisung." 

"I really don't understand what you're getting at, hyung." 

Minho's so, so close to him now. Close enough that Jisung can count out the strands of hair that are plastered across his forehead, close enough that he can just faintly make out printer cartridges and mint over the smell of grilled tripe and rice. Close enough that Jisung can see the remainder of what had probably been eyeliner smudged in his waterline and the dry skin chapping off of his lips. 

"Are you really that clueless, Jisungie?" 

Jisung isn't that clueless. But this is his fantasy, not Minho's. And Minho just turns 180 degrees whenever he wants to, and Jisung's left standing on the other side of the circle completely confused. 

He doesn't say anything, letting his heart beat unsteady rhythms in his chest and letting his brain go into overheat mode, blocking out any and all coherent thoughts. 

"I'm glad we're best friends, Jisung," Minho says finally. 

And as he crashes back into his seat, all of Jisung's walls come crashing down as well. Everything he'd built to keep himself sane, everything he'd made steady so he'd remain strong, it all comes crumbling into a dry mess of broken bricks and, well--heartbreak. 

Because Minho is infuriating. Jisung doesn't understand him--doesn't understand what he wants, or what's going on, or why his reaction changes every time he sees Jisung. 

"I have class in the morning," Jisung says thickly after a few seconds, and he barely registers himself getting up and pushing in his chair. Minho lets him go--doesn't even look up at him. Neither of them point out the fact that it's only just hit 4 PM. 

He walks out of the place where they'd eaten slowly, and then he sprints the rest of the way back to the dorm. 

Sprints until his legs are begging him to stop and his lungs are contracting trying to push air in and out of them fast enough. And then he collapses on the living room floor and stares at the little crack in the ceiling as the minutes tick by. 

Fuck you, Lee Minho. 

-

When 3 AM hits on the clock, Jisung finds himself in the dorm hallway, loose cash clutched in his sweaty palm as he sways in front of the vending machine. 

He's running on four energy drinks, lack of sleep, and crashing waves of emotions as he stares at the various chocolate bars. 

At least chocolate bars aren't confusing. 

Well, usually. Right now, their labels are kind of blurring and mushing together so Jisung can't quite see them, but chocolate is chocolate. He stumbles forward and clumsily shoves his bill into the little slot. 

Only for it to be rejected with a flash of red light as it's ejected right back out. Jisung takes a deep breath, grits his teeth, and tries to get the two slots he's seeing to reform into one. The bill goes through this time, despite the machine groaning and shuddering as it swallows his money. 

To be honest, Jisung doesn't know what chocolate bar he gets. Because he hits a random letter and a random number and watches the machine make the choice for him. It shudders again and the second bar in the fourth row down begins to make its journey down the machine and into the slot. 

But then it doesn't. The stupid bar, it catches between a bag of some sort of candy and the glass wall of the machine and freezes, inches from the slot where it'd been so close to falling. 

"Oh fuck no," Jisung mutters. 

Maybe he's not completely sane right now, but fuck it, he's going to get his damn chocolate bar. He's going to make one thing go right in his life. Fuck Minho, fuck the chocolate bar, fuck the vending machine--goddamnit, he's getting his goddamn fucking chocolate bar. 

Jisung slams his fist against the machine. It groans again, but the chocolate bar stays exactly where it is. Jisung stands there and alternates between kicking at the bottom of the machine, hard, and slamming his fists against the glass violently. 

Nothing works, because the stupid chocolate bar stubbornly stays right where it is, and Jisung's knuckles end up skinned and bleeding. The vending machine, laughably, suffers no damage other than the trapped chocolate bar. 

And then Jisung falls onto the floor, his eyes burning and his knuckles bleeding and his stupid chocolate bar still stuck in the machine. 

And that's how Hyunjin finds him at 3:42 AM, clutching his wrist and sobbing his eyes out in front of a vending machine in the middle of the dorm hallway. 

"Jisungie, what on _earth_ \--" Hyunjin's hand flies to his mouth as he catches sight of Jisung, and that only makes Jisung sob harder. "What the _fuck_ happened?" 

He kneels in front of Jisung and picks up his hand, hissing when he sees his knuckles. "Jisungie, what are you _doing_?" 

"My chocolate," Jisung sobs, pointing at the vending machine in despair. "My fucking _chocolate_ \--" 

He curls into a tighter ball and puts his face in his hands. If he had been in the right state of mind, he'd have been conscious of all the other dorm residents hearing his crying and coming out to judge him, but he couldn't give less of a fuck right now. 

Hyunjin blinks at the chocolate bar in the machine and gets up wordlessly, reaching in his pocket. He's back in a few seconds, Jisung's fallen chocolate bar in his hand and another one sticking out of his packet. 

He hands Jisung the chocolate bar quietly and Jisung takes it, looks at it, and a fresh set of sobs racks his body nearly immediately. 

"You're not crying about the chocolate, Jisungie," Hyunjin says softly. 

He comes forward and wraps his arms around Jisung gently, pulling him into his chest and crossing his legs over each other. "What's going on, Jisungie?" 

It doesn't seem like he's expecting an answer anyways, because he just rocks Jisung back and forth in the middle of the hallway, letting him cry on him for who knows how long. 

"Who hurt you, Jisung?"

Jisung feels another sob rip out of his throat at that because now it sounds like Hyunjin is crying too and goddamnit he hates seeing Hyunjin cry and why is Hyunjin crying because he doesn't have to cry--

"Minho-hyung--" Jisung starts, only to be cut off by another shuddering cry. 

"I will fucking _kill_ Minho-hyung," Hyunjin says around his own tears. 

"No--" 

"If Minho-hyung said anything mean to you I will _end his life_ ," Hyunjin croaks aggressively. "If anyone says anything mean to you I will fucking _murder_ them." 

"I hate me," Jisung mutters through his tears. 

"Square the _fuck_ up, you _bitch_ ," Hyunjin chokes out. 

Jisung lets out a watery laugh through his tears, wiping at his cheeks aggressively. "I'm fine," he tries, but Hyunjin cuts him off, hugging him tighter. 

"Shut the fuck up and let me love you," Hyunjin grumbles, "You made me cry at four in the morning." 

Jisung laughs again, even though the small smile eventually turns into a grimace and he can feel himself choking up again. 

Hyunjin eventually gets rid of his own tears and helps Jisung back into the dorm and, after dumping him in Hyunjin's bed, calls Changbin over. Which Jisung thinks is totally unnecessary, he's perfectly fine--he totally did not just have a mental breakdown over a chocolate bar. 

Jisung lets the two of them coddle him while he lets himself feel miserable in between the two of them. He only wiggles himself out from underneath them long after they've fallen asleep and he disappears into the living room. 

He only gets back into Hyunjin's cramped bed when his fingertips are stained yellow and the canvas in the living room is covered with a tarp. 

The little pink Post-It he sticks on the tarp reads "gloss varnish tomorrow". 

\- 

Jisung stays the fuck away from Minho after that. 

He also completely ignores the fact that he had an entire mental breakdown and moves on with his life like it never happened. 

Him avoiding Minho totally has nothing to do with the fact that he'd basically been friend-zoned for good. Jisung's just--busy. 

And if being busy means that he stops singing at the Lonely Star (Lord does he get chewed out by Woojin for that little stunt he pulls), stops hanging out with Chan, and basically only ever leaves the dorm to go to class, then so be it. 

Jisung totally does not need Minho. He totally does not miss Minho. He totally does not almost walk to the studio just to peek in before getting a grip on himself halfway there and turning around and going home. 

He, on impulse, paints Nunchi. 

Paints her from memory in abstract form and uses purple and blue to compliment ginger and white. When he shows it to Changbin and Hyunjin, they tell him he should definitely turn it in as his personal project. 

Jisung does turn in his final project. It's just that he looks at the painting of Nunchi, sets it down by his nearly empty bottle of liquid varnish, and picks up the other piece he's already wrapped in tarp to turn in. 

And that's the end of that. 

Woojin is, to say the least, pissed beyond belief at Jisung. Probably because he randomly leaves a message on his phone one day letting him know that for personal reasons, he won't be singing at the Lonely Star anymore. So really, Jisung shouldn't be too surprised when the older boy shows up at his lecture hall after class one day with an angry frown etched onto his face. 

Jisung sighs when he spots Woojin and hikes his bag further up his shoulder before walking straight past him. He knows Woojin will catch up with him. 

"Jisung, I love you, but what the fuck is going on with you?" Woojin catches up to him and stops directly in front of him, forcing Jisung to stop as well. 

"I don't know what you mean," Jisung says, looking pointedly away from Woojin and at the pretty rock he spots on the floor instead. Huh. That's a nice rock. 

"You just--disappeared off the face of the earth--and I'm totally not mad about you ditching on the Lonely Star or anything--but what in fuck's name are you doing? I haven't seen you with Minho in like, a week." 

Oh. So Minho hasn't told Woojin yet. Huh. Jisung will just do it for him, then. 

"We broke up," Jisung says simply, stepping around Woojin lightly. 

"You _what_?" Woojin shrieks, jogging up in front of him again. Jisung sighs when he's forced to stop again, sighing and crossing his arms. "We broke up. What's the big deal?" 

"The big deal is that the two of you were disgustingly _infatuated_ with each other!" Woojin flails his arms. "What the hell happened?" 

Jisung laughs humorlessly, looking away. "Guess that was a one-sided infatuation, then." 

"Wait--why didn't Minho tell me anything, then?" 

"I don't know, Woojin-hyung," Jisung says impatiently, sighing. "That sounds like a question you've gotta ask Minho-hyung, not me." 

"Are you still gonna come to the performing arts showcase?" Woojin asks hesitantly. 

"Of course I'm going," Jisung says slowly. _Because I'm a part of it._ "Why wouldn't I?" 

"Because Minho is performing. His piece got accepted. Didn't he tell you?" Woojin asks.

Jisung pretends that piece of information doesn't affect him in any way. "Guess he left that part out," Jisung shrugs, smiling at Woojin blankly. "Can I go now?" 

Woojin sighs, but he steps out of Jisung's way, allowing him to step past and head off. 

He doesn't go to the dorm. He's sick of the place--and of the fact that the entire place smells like chemical paint and he thinks he's already high off of it by now. Instead, he goes to the library to work on a composition he's gotta turn in for Expos--there's the tiniest chance that he might see Minho there, but he's planning on completely ignoring the older's presence if he accidentally runs into him. 

Jisung doesn't run into Minho at the library, but he also gets zero work done. 

Minho's piece was accepted into the showcase. Which means Jisung and Minho are both performers at the showcase. If a few days ago had never happened, Jisung would be the happiest person on earth for Minho--except now he doesn't know what to think. 

Realistically, there isn't any reason for him not to be happy for Minho. But every time he thinks of dance and the stupid studio he just remembers Minho's face inches away from his and then he gets the urge to punch the older boy all over again. 

That's when he decides that not thinking about it is probably the best way to keep his violent urges at bay, so he pushes the performing arts showcase as far away from his mind as possible and stares at the blank white document open on his computer. 

Oh, he's screwed. He's absolutely doomed. 

When he finally does take the liberty of bringing himself back to his dorm, Hyunjin is not alone. 

For starters, he's wrapped around Felix on the couch in a position that cannot be comfortable for either of them. Somehow, though, they've both got the biggest grins on their faces as they watch whatever stupid cartoon is playing on their cracked TV. 

"Oh, Jisungie!" Hyunjin notices him and waves, twisting himself a little bit so he's resting on his stomach and grinning up at Jisung. 

"Gross," Jisung states matter-of-factly as he walks past, sticking his tongue out at the two of them. 

"Changbin-hyung is in the bedroom, Jisung!" Hyunjin calls after him, "Don't sit on him or he'll scream at you." 

"You bitch, I'm not that fucking tiny!" Jisung hears from the bedroom. He shakes his head as he walks in, preparing himself for the whirlwind of talking he's about to get trapped into. 

"Hi, Jisung!" Changbin is sitting on one of the beds--Jisung's bed, specifically--with a grin on his face that means absolutely nothing good and a piece of paper in his hands. 

"What did you do?" Jisung sighs, flopping down face-down on Hyunjin's bed. 

"My song is being played in the showcase," Changbin says all in one big breath. Jisung jolts up to look at Changbin, who's grinning ear-to-ear on the other bed. 

"Are you serious?" 

Changbin waves the piece of paper happily, and Jisung takes the initiative to jump on him from the other bed, earning himself an 'oof' as he lands on Changbin and probably crushes his organs. "I'm so proud of you, you fucking loser!" 

Changbin gives up trying to get Jisung off of him and lets him sit down comfortably on his stomach. "I feel so loved," he sighs dreamily, staring up at the ceiling. 

And then he sits up as much as he can with the younger boy on his body and looks at Jisung straight in the eye. "You'll--still come now, right?" 

Oh Lord. Jisung's not some fragile being made of glass--it's not like seeing Minho is going to make him break down or anything. He doesn't know why everyone's making it seem like he'll burst into flames if Minho's around him just because he's been going major lenghths to avoid him again. 

Huh. He almost feels exactly like he did after the laundry incident--anytime he sees anything stripey or remotely pink he jumps behind a tall person (read: Hyunjin) or any object that could hide him from view. Not because he's scared, just because he doesn't want to see Minho. 

"Yes, Changbin-hyung, I am aware Minho-hyung is performing in the showcase and yes, I am still going to the showcase," Jisung sighs, getting off of Changbin and returning to Hyunjin's bed. 

He doesn't mention the fact that he's the opening act for the showcase, or that he's already emailed his professor the three songs he'll be performing, or that he won't be sitting with them for the first half of the showcase because he'll be backstage doing announcements. 

"Don't _worry_ ," Jisung groans when he sees the increasing look of worry grow in Changbin's eyes. "I'll be fine." 

"If he does anything I will punch him in the gut," Changbin says firmly. 

"Okay, and when you get assault charges, I'm not gonna be paying you out of them," Jisung says back, shaking his head. 

Still, he loves his friends. 

His friends who believe that the solution to everything is, well, to resort to violence. 

-

Jisung misses Minho.

Misses him like fucking crazy and he won't let himself admit it. 

Turns out all his issues needed then was a boost to trigger them, because all of a sudden Jisung starts being unable to sleep at all. It isn't that he's not tired, because he is. He's exhausted. 

But still, somehow, at four in the morning, he's wide awake, exhausted beyond belief yet unable to let sleep's tendrils drag him under into darkness. His eyelids could be burning with the want to sleep, yet his brain just won't shut up about, well--Minho, Minho, Minho. 

He doesn't understand why being far away from Minho is affecting him so much. Why the fact that he doesn't see the older boy is slowly killing him inside. But it is, and as snowfall patters lightly outside his window and Hyunjin snores quietly on the other side of the room, Jisung lies perfectly still--wide, wide awake. 

Wide, wide awake, watching the snow patter outside his window lightly and collect in frosty thin layers on the sill. 

"Fuck you," Jisung says to the snow, and oddly enough, it feels good. 

"Who are we fucking?" Hyunjin stirs lightly, his voice laced with sleep as he props himself up on an elbow and yawns. 

"The snow," Jisung replies idly, his eyes trained on a single flake as it flutters softly to the ground. 

"Jisung, sweetie, you know you have my full support in everything you do, but there's a line and I think you're pushing it," Hyunjin says, the lilt of his tease tipping his words off the scale. "The fantasies have gotta stop somewhere." 

Jisung doesn't answer, just cups his chin in his palm and lets out a puff of air through his nose. Faintly, he hears shuffling and rustling on the other side of the room, and then suddenly there's a warm hand on his shoulder. 

"Jisungie, baby," Hyunjin says softly, and he's using _that_ _voice_. 

The voice he uses to tell his bunny to move so she doesn't accidentally get her ear twisted in a cable. The voice he uses to tell his little cousin not to eat that, it'll give him a stomachache. 

And when Jisung finally gets the courage to look up at the older boy, he's met with eyes glittering with worry and lips pursed in sympathy. His face alone makes the back of Jisung's eyes burn because suddenly everything comes crashing down on him and it's like every single brick wall he'd ever built is breaking and crumbling until he's left in shambles and rusty red dust. 

And even though he'd had a breakdown in the hallway not one week ago, here he is again, crumbling because Hyunjin is worried about him. And Hyunjin is soft and sweet and sensitive (and also a tricky little bitch) and he doesn't deserve to have to worry about Jisung, not when he's losing it over something so stupid. 

"I know you hate it when I try to tell you this," Hyunjin sits down softly and bites his lower lip worriedly, nothing put pure genuine concern shining in his eyes, "but I think we should schedule an appointment for you." 

"I don't need it," Jisung says roughly, reaching up to wipe aggressively at his eyes because those tears are betraying him by threatening to fall. "I'm fine." 

"You're not, Ji," Hyunjin pleads, pulling closer, "you haven't slept properly in _weeks_." 

"It'll pass," Jisung tries, but for some reason he's already crying again, "it's just--" he coughs past a broken wave of tears and looks away quickly, "just a rough patch," he finishes, but it's pathetic even to his own ears. 

"Oh, Jisungie," Hyunjin says mournfully, and that does it. 

"What the fuck, Hyunjin," Jisung chokes, and then he's actually crying properly again, and he melts into Hyunjin's hold and the older just lets him sob into his arms for who knows how long. 

At some point Changbin shows up and Jisung is completely baffled as to how he'd even gotten the message because he swears Hyunjin had not let go of him once. Or maybe he'd been too busy weeping his eyes out to notice Hyunjin sending Changbin a text. Probably the latter. 

"I am going to _murder_ Lee Minho," Changbin grumbles once he walks in and catches wind of what's going on. "I'm gonna fucking _annihilate_ him, what the actual _fuck_." 

Jisung doesn't point out that not once had he even mentioned Minho. Changbin is not wrong, though, and so he doesn't object. 

"You need help, Jisung-ah," he says plainly once Jisung hitches in his sobbing. 

" _Hyung_ ," Hyunjin hisses, "he's _fragile_ , don't be a dick." 

"I'm not being a dick, I'm being honest," Changbin says as he walks over and kneels on the floor in front of Jisung. He grasps both of Jisung's shoulders and pulls him forward so he's forced to look Changbin in the eye, teary-eyed mess as he is. 

"Look at me, Jisung," he says, and Jisung wants to tell him that he hasn't really got a choice, but Changbin's talking again before he can. "You need to show the fucker that you don't care, okay? I don't know what the fuck he did but if he's any part of the reason that you've got literal bruises under your eyes you need to get _yourself_ _together_." 

Jisung blinks at him owlishly, and Changbin sighs heavily. He reaches forward and wipes under Jisung's left eye with a thumb before he retracts his hand and nods firmly. 

"You can't let the bitchass get to you, okay?" he says firmly, pursing his lips. "Otherwise you're gonna kill yourself over whatever the fuck it is he did to you. You're already halfway there." 

"I am not--" Jisung protests, but Hyunjin cuts him off by pressing his hand to his lips. Changbin smiles a little bit before the determined look etches itself back onto his face and he squeezes Jisung's shoulders. 

"You're gonna listen to me now, okay?" Changbin says aggressively, dropping his hands. "I completely supported you ignoring Minho-hyung's existence, but I am not going to let my best friend completely fuck himself up over a boy who doesn't fucking deserve it." 

"Ouch," Hyunjin squeaks. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"Now, you're gonna stop crying," Changbin instructs, "you're gonna take your ass back to the Lonely Star and sing there because you don't care if the fucker shows up there or not." 

"Okay, but," Hyunjin cuts in again, "one little thing, it's, uh, four in the morning." 

"Oh, right," Changbin deflates a little. "In the morning, you're gonna take your ass back to the--"

"I got it, Changbin-hyung," Jisung interrupts, exhaling heavily. 

"Yeah, you better have," Changbin seems to have lost his spark, falling back and retreating into himself. "And now, I'm gonna go sleep on your couch because I am an amazing friend and I walked all the way here in the middle of the night to smack some sense into you and I'm not walking all the way back. Good night!" 

And with that, Changbin stalks out of the room, waving his hand over his shoulder with a flourish. Hyunjin looks at Jisung with an amused little smile on his lips and shrugs lightly. 

"That's not the approach I would've taken, but each to their own, I guess," he shrugs, rubbing Jisung's shoulder affectionately. "You think you're gonna sleep?"

Jisung huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. But you should," he points to Hyunjin's bed. 

"Bullshit," Hyunjin says firmly, getting up and sticking his feet in those stupid pink bunny slippers he's strangely attached to, "let's watch stupid Christmas movies before Christmas actually comes."

And that's exactly what they do, huddled up on Hyunjin's bed in Hyunjin's stupid matching pink fluffy blanket, with Hyunjin's computer balanced on both their calves and the Grinch playing on the screen. 

That's how Changbin finds them in the morning, and then he has a fit about how he wasn't invited to the movie marathon. 

True to his word, Jisung walks to the Lonely Star as soon as the sun comes up, with tear tracks still probably visible on his cheeks and his eyes definitely still puffy because fuck you, the Grinch is a sad fucking movie. 

(No, it's not, but Jisung just needed something to cry about.) 

(He also doesn't walk to the Lonely Star voluntarily, Changbin pushes him up to the door and then sprints off with a coy smile. Fuck Changbin, too.)

Jisung takes a deep breath and pushes the door open to a nearly empty store and a half-asleep Woojin tiredly running a Lysol wipe over the counter. His face brightens, then flits to confusion, then darkens to a frown when he notices Jisung step in. Jisung can actually pinpoint the moment Woojin sees his puffy eyes because he drops the wipe and walks over immediately, cupping Jisung's face in his hands. 

"What are you doing here, Jisungie?" Woojin asks, concern pooling in his eyes, "Why were you crying?" 

"I wasn't crying," Jisung says indignantly, but there's no fooling anyone at this point when he clearly has been. He smiles at Woojin in an attempt to get the focus off of him, but there's no peeling Woojin's eyes from his own. 

"Jisungie--" 

"Look, hyung, I love you, but can we please just not talk about it?" 

Woojin purses his lips, clearly not happy, but he nods stiffly anyways, moving his hands to Jisung's shoulders. "Just tell me you're okay, yeah?" 

"I'm okay, Woojin-hyung," Jisung repeats, pasting the smile back on his lips. 

"What brings you here, then?" Woojin asks finally. 

Jisung releases his lower lip from where he'd trapped it between his teeth and exhales shakily. 

"I know you're probably mad at me and I know I'm a jerk, but--if-if you haven't found someone else and you still need a singer, could I--" 

"Hired," Woojin cuts Jisung off with a warm smile. "Hired, hired, _hired_." 

Jisung blinks, taken aback. "Aren't you--" 

"Jisungie, my bakery has been a ghost town without you around," Woojin sighs. "It's absolutely awful. What kind of idiot would I have to be to tell you no?" 

Jisung lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Woojinnie-hyung, for the last time--" 

"Shut up," Woojin lifts a finger to Jisung's lips and shakes his head. "I get rights. You abandoned me." 

"I didn't--" 

"This finger? It means _shut_ _up_ , Jisungie," Woojin says again, pressing his finger harder to Jisung's lips. Jisung gives up and lets Woojin have his way with an exasperated sigh. 

"I'm not going to ask what happened between you and Minho," Woojin says firmly after a few seconds, a serious expression replacing his previous smile, and Jisung feels his shoulders sag at the mention. He'd hoped to get away from this, not be reminded of it. 

"--because that's your business. _But_ ," Woojin stops and puts his other hand on his hip, "and I'm saying this out of love and complete adoration for the both of you, you both are being absolute _morons_ right now." 

Jisung bites the inside of his cheek guiltily as Woojin speaks. "Whatever mess you two created is none of my business. But both of you are _clearly_ going a little bit nuts," and when Jisung tries to protest, he just gestures wildly at the younger and Jisung shuts up, "so for your sakes and my own, _please_ fix whatever it is that happened. Watching you try so hard not to run into each other is making me go crazy." 

And with that, he drops his finger from Jisung's lips and pulls him into a warm, sturdy hug. "I missed you, you bastard." 

Jisung smiles tightly into Woojin's shoulders, relaxing into the older's grip. "Missed you too, hyung." 

And neither of them notice the shadowed out figure leaning against the kitchen wall, listening in to the conversation. 

Just as is, neither of them notice Minho slink away through the back door, either. 

-

The performing arts showcase comes and goes, and Jisung performs. He stays to watch Changbin and Chan's performance only, and then he's out of the center before he can watch a specific someone's performance. 

He totally doesn't do it on purpose, it's just that Minho's performance is last and he's tired, so he goes home coincidentally in time for him to miss it. That's all. 

Woojin must be looking at him disappointedly, even from the bakery. 

Jisung hasn't spoken one word to Minho. Sure, he'd have tried to fix things--if he knew what there was to fix. 

Clearly to Woojin the fake breakup hadn't looked good, but Jisung's not sure what there is he's supposed to fix when he and Minho were never a full deal to begin with. Their relationship was based solely on cup ramen and a hot bet. That's all. 

But Minho is so irritatingly confusing--the signals he sends are more mixed than the little chunks of strawberry Jisung hates biting into when he gets strawberry ice cream and Jisung frankly cannot understand him. 

They're homies--but do homies pretend to kiss each other all the time? Is that a normal homie thing to do? Is Jisung just going crazy? Are his impulses driving him wild? 

To answer the final question, probably. For the other three, Jisung simply doesn't have answers, and for that reason, he continues to avoid Minho. Just...less explicitly. 

As in, he actually leaves the dorm to do stuff. He sings at the Lonely Star and does not have a mini panic attack whenever he spots Minho lounging somewhere. Does he sprint to the bathroom when he sees said man heading his way? Maybe, but that's a situation only for Jisung and that mirror he'd pep talked himself into for fifteen minutes before walking back out to find Minho gone to know. 

But he's done crying over Minho. Changbin is right, he doesn't deserve that. He's dumb and Jisung's dumb and neither of them can interpret what the other wants but what else was Jisung supposed to expect when the man literally pulled him into weird ass situations multiple times? 

Jisung's walking home from the Lonely Star with his guitar case swinging against his side as he goes when he feels this--this fluffy _thing_ on his ankle and screeches extremely loudly, jumping back at least fifteen feet from where he'd been standing earlier. 

He feels quite stupid when he lifts his foot shakily and finds absolutely nothing there--and then proceeds to freak out when he looks to where he's been standing and finds a ginger fluffball sitting in the middle of the sidewalk. 

"What the actual fuck, you scared me, you little rascal!" Jisung breathes out, one hand still clutching his heart as he steps forward to the fluffy object he's now identified as a cat. 

More specifically, a cat named Nunchi. 

It's her, he's sure it is--there's that little scar on one of her back paws and her eyes are just as big as she stares up at Jisung with her tail swishing. 

"Come here," Jisung mutters as he bends down and picks her up, much to her satisfaction. She vibrates happily when he holds her against his chest, closing her eyes. "What are you doing here?" Jisung asks absentmindedly as he strokes her ears gently. 

Hadn't Nunchi been adopted or something? 

That's right, she'd been adopted by-- _Minho_. 

Oh no. 

"Oh shit," Jisung whispers under his breath as he panics a little. Then on impulse, he sets Nunchi down on the sidewalk, this time to her dismay. She yowls unhappily when she's transferred back to gravel. 

"Sorry, baby, I gotta go," Jisung says hurriedly, patting her head one last time before taking off. If Nunchi's on the sidewalk, it means Minho isn't far behind, because she never goes further than twenty feet away from him without making sure he's still with her. 

He flies out of there as fast as he can and slams the dorm door shut when he reaches home, breathing heavily as he leans against the door and closes his eyes. 

"Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?" 

Jisung opens his eyes to see Hyunjin sitting on the counter, swinging his legs as he struggles to get the lid off of a container of ice cream. 

"I nearly saw something worse," Jisung mutters, watching Hyunjin finally get the lid off and dig his spoon into the chocolate ice cream excitedly. 

"Hm," Hyunjin hums thoughtfully as he sticks the spoon in his mouth, licking the chocolate off, "An alien, then? Or a zombie? Maybe a werewolf?" 

Jisung looks at Hyunjin distastefully before falling down on the floor against the door, leaning his head back. "I saw a cat." 

Hyunjin's silent for a few seconds before he speaks again. "Okay, I think I missed something here. Do you have some irrational fear of cats that I'm not aware of, or like--?" 

He sticks another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth and swallows happily. "Are you dead?" he asks loudly, and even though his eyes are closed, Jisung can feel Hyunjin observing him. 

"Unfortunately not," he answers plainly, sighing heavily. 

"As much as I'd like to say mood," Hyunjin says slowly, plunging his spoon back into the container, "I'm mildly concerned that you actually mean that." 

Jisung groans loudly and smacks his head against the door a lot harder than he'd originally meant to, resulting in bright pain zinging through his skull. 

"By the way, your phone was going crazy all day," Hyunjin says, and Jisung opens his eyes to watch the older hop off the counter and drop his spoon in the sink. 

"Why were you home all day?" Jisung asks, eyeing Hyunjin suspiciously as he fits the lid back on the ice cream container and sticks it back in the freezer. 

"I threw up during first lecture so I came home," Hyunjin says, shrugging lightly. He says it so nonchalantly that Jisung almost doesn't register what he says--and then he does. 

"What the fuck, Hyunjin?" Jisung sits up, utterly bewildered at Hyunjin's absolute indifference to the statement. "Why the fuck are you eating _ice_ _cream_ then?" 

Hyunjin juts out his lower lip a little. "Because I wanted to?" He tries, voice small. 

"You're so stupid, Hyunjin," Jisung sighs loudly, pulling himself up from the floor and dragging himself over to where Hyunjin's looking at him with big eyes from the couch. "Are you sick?" 

"I don't know?" Hyunjin shrinks into himself, smiling sheepishly at Jisung. 

Jisung claps a hand to his forehead and closes his eyes, drawing in a deep, exasperated breath. Then he walks over to their nearly bare medicine cabinet and rummages around for the thermometer. He finds it tucked neatly between nearly empty bottles of pills and pulls it out before he makes his way over to Hyunjin, who's still looking at him with giant innocent eyes. 

"Open your mouth, you bastard," Jisung shakes his head and Hyunjin obediently unhinges his jaw, allowing Jisung to stick the device under his tongue. When it beeps, he's met with numbers that are definitely higher than they're supposed to be and he sits down on the edge of the coffee table with a grim sigh.

"Sometimes I wonder how you haven't already killed yourself completely on accident," he mutters, putting the thermometer down. "We don't have anything for the stomach flu, so I gotta run to the convenience store, okay?" 

"Do you even know if I have the stomach flu?" Hyunjin asks. 

"Do you feel sick?" Jisung questions right back, then nods when Hyunjin curls into himself further with a grumble. "And while that very likely could be because you just stuffed your face with ice cream, I'm taking no chances." 

Jisung looks around and spots what he's looking for quickly. He drags the little trash can they have sitting in the corner of the room over to Hyunjin and points at it sternly as he sticks his wallet in his pocket. 

"If you need to throw up, please, _please_ do it in there. I'll be right back, so don't move your ass off that couch until I get back. Understood?" 

Hyunjin nods, biting his lip, and Jisung sighs heavily again as he pulls his jacket over his shoulders and walks out of the dorm. It's snowing lightly again, dusting over the layer of snow that's already melted mostly under the sun. 

He honestly doesn't completely remember where the campus convenience store is, so he walks around in loops until he actually spots the glaring red sign that's slightly blurred by the snowfall and sighs in relief, pulling the door open and entering. The tired college student behind the cashier gives him a quick glance before returning his head to his arms, probably hoping he can take a nap before Jisung bothers him again. 

Jisung heads for the cold and flu aisle immediately, but just as he's turning into the aisle he bumps smack dab into a person, who jerks back immediately with a string of apologies. 

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't--oh, Jisung?" 

Jisung blinks a couple of times, clearing his vision before Chan's face appears in front of his.

"Oh, hey, Chan-hyung." 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and smiles at the older, who grins back. "Haven't seen you in a while. Did flu season get to you, too?" 

"No," Jisung rocks back on his heels with a grimace, "It got to Hyunjin. The idiot just casually goes, 'hey, by the way, I threw up during class, in case you wanted to know,' while stuffing his face with ice cream." 

Chan raises his eyebrows amusedly, resting a hand on his hip. "That cannot be good." 

"Yeah. Hence why I'm stuck babysitting him now. You?" 

"Oh, I'm--well, basically Woojinnie called me and told me to get Minho from his class because he apparently passed out and Woojin couldn't leave the bakery. So now I'm taking him home, but I figured I didn't wanna take the trip twice and I stopped here on the way so I could get fever reducers." 

"You're..currently taking him home?" Jisung asks cautiously, and Chan nods. "Yeah, he's on the bench in the front." 

"Uh, no he's not," Jisung says slowly, pointing his thumb in the direction he'd come from, "I just came from there, there was no one on the bench." 

Chan's face falls. "Please tell me you're joking." 

Jisung shakes his head, pursing his lips. 

"Oh God Woojin is gonna kill me if I lose Minho," Chan mutters under his breath, "where the fuck would he have even gone?" 

He moves past Jisung to peer at the bench visible from the front and curses under his breath when he realizes Minho is actually gone. "What the fuck, where did he go?" 

"I'm here," Jisung hears, and he and Chan turn at exactly the same time to find Minho leaning against one of the metal display stands, his lips nearly as white as his face. "I went to the bathroom." 

Chan breathes a sigh of relief, showing zero reaction to Minho's appearance. " _Tell_ me next time, moron, I nearly had a _heart_ _attack_." 

Jisung bites back the urge to ask Minho if he's okay or give him a hug or at least go help him stand because he's swaying on his feet and he looks like he's about to fall over. "Go sit," Chan says wearily, "you're gonna collapse." 

"That sounds like a great idea," Minho says thinly, completely ignoring Jisung's presence and making his way back to the front of the store. Chan cranes his neck to make sure Minho's seated safely before returning to the aisle with a thin little frown on his face. 

"You two are still in shambles, then?" 

Jisung throws his hands up in the air and tries to ignore the pang in his chest. "Does _everyone_ know about this?" 

Chan backs up slightly, pursing his lips and putting his hands up innocently. "Hey, I'm not gonna say anything. Whatever happened is completely your business. It's just really weird not seeing the two of you attached at the hip." 

"We were never _attached at the hip_ ," Jisung says plainly, grabbing a box of fever reducers from the shelf. 

"Oh come on, Jisungie," Chan says as he shuffles through the brands to find his own box of fever reducers. "Literally every time I walked anywhere you two were with each other." 

Jisung bites his lip as he picks up a package of stomach relaxers and passes it to his other hand with a sigh. "Just leave it be, hyung. Please." 

"Like I said, none of my business," Chan says, running a hand through his flyaway curls. "But it'd be great if you two could be on talking terms at least. It's really hard trying to host get togethers with everyone when you, Changbinnie, and Hyunjin refuse to talk to Minho." 

"I'm not ignoring him," Jisung says, looking pointedly anywhere but Chan's face. "If he talks to me, I'll talk to him. But I'm not initiating conversation." 

Chan lets out a heavy sigh, but he doesn't say anything else on the matter. Jisung feels slightly guilty--but he shakes that away and heads for the row of refrigerators at the back of the shop with a tiny wave in Chan's direction. "See you around, hyung."

"Bye," Chan says defeatedly, and then Jisung turns and pulls open the door. He reaches for a bottle of electrolyte water and then grabs two more, just for good measure. The college student at the register looks less than thrilled at having to ring Jisung up, but he doesn't blame him. Jisung had hated working late hours at one of the campus's coffee shops last year and he's beyond grateful he'd dropped that job. 

Hyunjin's ass is still, thankfully, on the couch when Jisung gets back home, but he's staring guiltily at Jisung when he kicks off his shoes and walks over to him. 

"What?" Jisung looks at him suspiciously as he empties the bag onto the coffee table and one of the legs creaks threateningly under the newly added weight. 

Hyunjin bites his lip. "I threw up again," he says sheepishly. 

Jisung freezes. "Please tell me you didn't--" 

"No, in the trash can," Hyunjin interrupts. 

"Okay, so why do you look so guilty?" Jisung asks as he pops two of the fever reducer tablets out of their foil packaging. 

"Because you have to empty it now," Hyunjin says sadly, staring at the bin. Jisung rolls his eyes and barks out a laugh. "I don't care about the trash can, Hyunjin. As long as you're not gonna make me deep clean the carpet it's not a big deal. Calm down." 

Hyunjin only looks the slightest bit appeased at that, but he holds his palm out for the pills obediently when Jisung gestures for him to take them. "Take them with water, they'll go down easier," Jisung says quickly when Hyunjin goes to dry swallow them. 

He cracks open the seal on one of the water bottles he'd bought and hands it to Hyunjin, who grimaces, but willingly takes the pills with a couple of reluctant sips. 

"Think you can stomach one more?" Jisung asks, holding out the stomach relaxer tablet. Hyunjin eyes it distastefully but he sighs and holds out his hand for Jisung to drop it into again. He takes it too, despite nearly choking on it the first time and having to wash it down with a flood of water. 

"Feel okay?" Jisung asks once he hands back the water bottle with a wince. 

Hyunjin nods slowly, curling into himself. 

Jisung sits down on the edge of the coffee table and jumps up when it groans under his weight and threatens to collapse, choosing to sit down on the floor on account of the fact that it won't cave in. Hopefully. 

"Are you tired?" Hyunjin's looking at him now, blinking wide eyes at him. 

Jisung waves him off, pulling a face. "My God, stop worrying about me. You're the invalid right now, not me." 

"You're worrisome," Hyunjin snaps, crossing his arms. "It's not my fault you do things that make me worry." 

Jisung flaps at Hyunjin frantically in an attempt for him to shut up. Then he remembers something Hyunjin had said, sitting on the counter and shoving ice cream in his mouth. 

"Did you say my phone was blowing up today?" He perks up, looking around for his phone instinctively. 

Hyunjin nods, his eyes closed now. "Yeah, they were all people from your art lecture. I don't know any of their names, but you had like, a billion texts from them." 

"I did?" Jisung asks wonderingly, getting up to retrieve his phone, fairly sure it's in the bedroom. "Funny, they barely ever text me unless it's them panicking about an essay last minute. But we haven't _had_ an essay this week. What goes on?" 

Jisung walks into his bedroom and finds his phone on Hyunjin's bed, still lit up with text messages popping up on his phone screen. His phone's burning hot in his hand when he picks it up and he grimaces at the loss of charge it's experienced from going crazy with texts all day. 

The first one Jisung sees when he unlocks his phone is from Seonghwa, who sits behind him and smiles at him every once in a while. There's a mess of capital letters and emojis, but the one that catches Jisung's eye is congratulations. 

Congratulations for what? 

Jisung walks back out of the room, scratching his head as he scrolls through his texts in confusion. They're all some sort of a congratulatory text for some odd reason, yet none of them actually state why he's being congratulated. 

"What am I being congratulated for?" Jisung asks absentmindedly as he sits back on the floor by Hyunjin's useless limbs. 

"Congratulated?" Hyunjin asks drowsily, already half asleep. He turns over slightly, one hand resting on his stomach and the other hanging off the couch limply. "What for?" 

"That's what _I'm_ trying to figure out," Jisung mumbles, scrolling up further. 

That's when he sees it. Two words that send shivers down his spine as soon as he reads them and he remembers. 

"Oh my God," Jisung's hand flies to his mouth off of its own accord, "no way, no fucking way--" 

"What?" Hyunjin asks, less sluggishly now, clearly more awake as he invests himself in the situation. 

"That can't be right, no--" Jisung's finger is trembling slightly as he hits the home button and then clicks on his email app and scrolls through his recent emails. His heart stops again when there's one new email from his professor, addressed directly to him. 

" _Shit_ ," Jisung breathes when he skims the email, his phone hitting the carpet with a thump. 

"What?" Hyunjin asks again, sitting up slightly, his eyes narrowing into cat slits as he watches Jisung. 

"The art show--I--got accepted," Jisung says slowly, his voice shaking. "My piece is being displayed in the art show on Saturday." 

"Oh my God, Jisungie, that's insane!" Hyunjin, though slightly hoarse, sounds beyond delighted on his sake, "Jisung, that's amazing, what the hell? Are you serious?" 

But Jisung's shaking for a completely different reason. His piece can't be displayed in the art show. It can't. 

No one else was supposed to see it other than him and his professor. No one at all--and now it's gonna be put on display for everyone else to look at--he's gonna die, what the actual hell-- 

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," Jisung curses, "that wasn't supposed to fucking happen." 

"Isn't this a good thing?" Hyunjin sounds utterly confused, clearly bewildered by his reaction. 

Jisung is completely, utterly fucked. 

-

"Jisungie, you gotta come out of there," Hyunjin's voice sounds, an exasperated edge to his tone. 

Jisung burrows further into the blankets, drawing his knees to his chest and dropping his head atop them. "I'm not going," he says stubbornly, looking down. 

He knows he's being petty. He knows he's being absolutely stupid. He knows this is the worst possible reaction. But he's not thinking rationally, so none of that really matters to him right now. None of it matters, not at all. He's not going. 

"Jisung--" 

"I'm _not_ _going_ ," Jisung repeats, "You can't make me go," more firmly this time. 

He hears Hyunjin sigh, and then the bed dips as Hyunjin apparently sits down on it. "Jisungie, I don't understand," he says finally, sounding more defeated than annoyed at this point. 

Jisung draws in a deep, shuddering breath and blinks away the tears forming in his eyes. "I'm not going," he says for a third time, but his voice is breaking this time. 

"Jisung," Hyunjin says, and now he just sounds mournful, "Can you at least tell me what the problem with this is? I'm so confused. Everyone you know is going to this to see your art piece. What's going on?" 

"That's the _problem_ ," Jisung says quietly. 

Stupid, he's so, so stupid. He should've just turned in the fucking Nunchi piece. 

"I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that," Hyunjin says after a few seconds, and then he's tugging the blankets out from under Jisung, revealing him from his safe space. He looks stressed, his hair ruffled from the number of times he'd run his hands through it and nothing but confusion on his face. 

"Jisungie," he says softly, reaching out to put a hand on Jisung's thigh, "what's going on?" 

Jisung takes another deep breath and blinks hard, looking away from Hyunjin. "You can't see it," he says after a few seconds, biting on his bottom lip, hard. 

"Can't see what? Your art piece? Haven't we already seen it, though?" 

Jisung shakes his head, staring at nothing in particular out the window. "I thought you gave in the Nunchi painting?" 

"It's in the living room," Jisung says quietly, hanging his head. 

"So...then what did you give in?" Hyunjin asks finally, his thumb caressing Jisung's knee gently. 

"I can't--it wasn't supposed to get in," Jisung breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut. "No one else was supposed to see it." 

"I don't understand, Jisungie," Hyunjin says, and Jisung almost feels bad for not being able to tell him. He sounds so utterly sad at being kept out of the loop and Jisung hates hiding anything from Hyunjin, not with how open his roommate is with him. 

"I'm sorry," Jisung hangs his head further, his fingers quivering as he clutches the sheets. 

He hears Hyunjin inhale and exhale loudly once before his hand is on Jisung's shoulder. 

"Look, Jisungie, I don't know what you gave in. But if it got into the showcase, that means it's pretty damn good. And me, I wanna see it. Changbin-hyung wants to see it. Chan-hyung wants to see it. Seungminnie wants to see it. Lixie wants to see it." 

Jisung shakes his head, tears burning his eyes again. "You're--you guys are gonna--you're gonna hate it. You're gonna hate _me_." 

"Unless it's a picture of fried eggplant, trust me, I'm not gonna hate it," Hyunjin says firmly. "I'm not gonna hate anything you've done, Jisungie." 

Jisung lets out a watery laugh, licking his dry lips. 

"Be proud of what you did, Jisungie. Even if it was meant just for you, you gotta own the fact that you're in the art showcase. That's a big _deal_ , you moron. And I'm _so_ fucking _proud_ of you, so you better get your ass off this bed and there so that we can go and hype you the fuck up and embarrass you in front of all your art friends." 

Jisung stays still for a moment longer before he looks up to Hyunjin holding out his hand with a determined look sketched on his features. And then, he takes Hyunjin's hand and lets the older pull him off the bed with a sigh. 

"Hyunjinnie," Jisung asks as he puts his phone in his pocket and grabs the bag with the suit Hyunjin had bought for him against his will. (He hasn't even tried it on, he doesn't even know if it fits). 

Hyunjin hums, and Jisung takes a deep breath. "You don't think Minho-hyung will come, do you?" 

Hyunjin's face immediately takes on an unreadable expression and he waits a few beats before answering. "I don't know, Jisungie, if I've gotta be completely honest. He promised you he'd come. But with the lengths both of you have gone to avoid each other, it's just as likely that he'll consider that promise nullified." 

"He can't come," Jisung says shakily. "He--he of all people cannot see what I've done." 

"Then for your sake," Hyunjin says firmly, "I'll pray he doesn't. Now go, or you're gonna be late. We'll see you there, and," he pauses, comes forward, and pulls Jisung into a strong hug. "I love you, okay? Go own your shit." 

And that's how Jisung's stumbling out of the dorm, plastic bag strung over his arm and fear pulsing through his veins. 

The whole things seems to be such a big deal when he gets there. In the back of his mind, Jisung registers the fact that's it's a really big deal and he'd only ever dreamt of this moment as a high school student. Now, though, there's nothing but dread pooling in his stomach when his art professor chides him for being late and pulls him into one of the dressing rooms he hadn't even known existed in the hall and tells him to change. 

Jisung takes a deep breath as he pulls the suit out of the bag. There are three other art students from classes he doesn't recognize in the room with him, and they're all smiling at each other nervously. It's then that he realizes he's just one face in the people who had gotten into the showcase--there are so many art classes, and one from each art class. Maybe this isn't such a big deal after all. 

(In his heart, it knows it is, but it's the only way he's keeping himself sane.) 

The suit is nice, but Jisung feels awkward once he's changed and staring at himself in the mirror. The college seems to have splurged and gotten hair stylists who are jumping from student to student at the event, and one spots him with undone hair and rushes over immediately. 

He can almost feel her disapproval at his bleached hair and the fact that it's currently blue (impulse + Hyunjin +2:42 AM do not make a very rational combo but it looks good on him so oh well), but she slathers her gloved hands with gel and gets to work. So by the time he gets up his hair's parted and curled gently over half of his forehead, revealing an eyebrow and the other half. 

She nods at her work before ushering Jisung off and moving on to the next student. 

The clock works fast then, making quick time before they're all lined up. The professors pick a few of them to stand at entrances and greet the people who enter with cards and guides, and Jisung extremely unfortunately ends up being the one to work at one of the entrances. He gets picked to stand with a boy he learns is named Jaehyun, though, and he grins nervously at Jisung as they walk together. 

"Isn't this absolutely awful?" he says quietly as they walk to the entrance. 

"The worst," Jisung replies, and they laugh together as they stand on either end of the door. "Like, this is totally helping the nerves." 

"I know, right?" Jaehyun grins. He's sweet and quick-witted, and he makes snarky comments every minute before the doors open. Jisung's the slightest bit calmer when the doors are announced open and the music starts playing, and all he's doing now is just praying Minho doesn't show up. 

"Hello, welcome, please enjoy the show," Jisung bows politely and hands the first girl who walks in a guide. Jaehyun does the same on the other side, and then there's a steady stream of people and Jisung's on his second stack of cards by the time his group of friends shows up. 

"Oh Lord," Jisung mutters. Jaehyun hears him and leans over, following Jisung's eyes to Hyunjin and Changbin, who are leading the group of people. "Your friends?" he asks. 

"Unfortunately," Jisung sighs. "Can I go hide in the bathroom?" 

"No can do, sir," Jaehyun shakes his head with an evil grin on his face. "This will probably be the only entertaining part of my night. I don't even know how I got here, to be honest." 

"That makes two of us," Jisung whispers, bumping his fist with Jaehyun's outstretched one. 

Hyunjin catches his eye then and he literally beams, and Jisung closes his eyes. Here goes. 

"Jisungie!" Changbin calls, and he can already hear Jaehyun snickering at him. 

"Hi, welcome, please enjoy the show," Jisung says in the most monotone voice possible, handing out the cards and guides to each of his friends. 

"You look nice," Seungmin says, ignoring Jisung's clear distaste. "Very much less ugly than you usually do." 

Jaehyun chokes back a laugh, and Jisung has to applaud him for even trying. "You flatter me," he says plainly, "Get inside, you people are so embarrassing." 

"Wait," Hyunjin squawks when Changbin tries to pull him through the door. "We're gonna wait for you before we find yours," he winks at Jisung before letting himself be dragged away. 

"Ouch," Jaehyun says, "I'm lucky my friends didn't even bother showing up." 

"Can we please trade friends?" Jisung asks desperately, earning himself a laugh. "That wasn't a joke," he mutters, gaining more laughter from the boy opposite him. 

Jisung eventually gets to trade places with another student who's already red in the face and he leaves hurriedly. He's gonna try to avoid bumping into his friends as long as he possibly can. 

Which turns out to be not very long, since Hyunjin spots him almost immediately and starts waving like a drunk monkey. Jisung sighs as he makes his way over. At least Minho isn't here. That's one small victory tonight. 

"You look way too professional," Changbin says, observing him closely. "It's freaky." 

"Trust me, I'd much rather be wearing sweatpants here--actually, I'd much rather not be here at all, but," Jisung shrugs, "we can't have everything we want." 

"Okay, but," Hyunjin interrupts, looking around, "now to the real orders of business. To your piece!" he points at the ceiling obnoxiously. 

Jisung feels his heart sink as he takes a deep breath. 

Now or never. 

"Fine," he says, biting his lip. "This way." 

Boy, is he walking into his death.

-

Jisung actually considers taking his friends the wrong way and then pretending he's lost where they hung his piece, even though he's completely aware of where it's hanging. But then he figures that it's best they embarrass him to his face instead of when he's not there, and begrudgingly he leads them (very, very slowly) down the hallway. 

Hyunjin helps the process of going slowly, though, because every and anything distracts him. First it's some art student's abstract gorilla painting. Then it's another's marble sculpture. Then it's a plate of food that grabs his attention and he chases the man holding it all the way to the other end of the room before returning with his little shrimp on a toothpick and a smile. 

"This," Hyunjin says with his mouth full, "is one hundred percent the highlight of my night." 

"It's a shrimp, Hyunjin," Felix rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "Get over yourself." 

Changbin glares at Felix and pats Hyunjin's shoulder. "Don't worry, Hyunjin. He's just jealous that shrimp is getting more action than him." 

Felix sputters over his drink as Jisung bursts into laughter and Hyunjin looks at the shrimp and then at Felix and protests greatly that it's 'just a shrimp'. 

"Lix is just grumpy, Jinnie," Seungmin sighs. "Someone woke him up early from naptime." 

Felix sputters again and there's another peal of laughter, and for a minute the attention's pulled from Jisung, giving him the chance to lean against the wall and breathe. 

There's a tap on his shoulder out of nowhere and, startled, Jisung looks to his friends first. All of them are there, so he's mildly confused when he turns to see--

A newly braces-free grin and eyes squinted into cat slits staring back at him. 

"Oh my _God_ , _Jeonginnie_?" Jisung's hand flies to his mouth and Jeongin laughs, holding out his arms. "Jisungie-hyung, I missed you!" 

Jisung, not completely certain of the fact that he isn't dreaming, steps into Jeongin's arms slowly and lets the younger boy hug him warmly. Jeongin brings with him the scent of home and comfort, brings a sense of security and stableness and Jisung almost melts into him. 

"Jisungie--oh--hang on, Jeongin-ah! You came!" Hyunjin bounds over, his eyes sparkling, as Jeongin lets go of Jisung and smiles brightly at Hyunjin. The older wastes no time pulling Jeongin into a hug as well, wrapping his arms tightly around him. 

Jisung's still slightly in shock at the fact that Jeongin is in front of him, not on a Facetime call, not talking to him through texts--

"Who is this?" Felix sidles up next to Hyunjin, suddenly oddly protective. He looks at Jeongin warily, squinting his eyes, and Jisung almost laughs at his possessiveness. 

"Lix, Channie-hyung, this is Jeonginnie, my little brother," Jisung says, tugging an arm around Jeongin's shoulders and pulling him close. He's grown taller than Jisung now, and he's only just gotten his braces off, but he looks so much like home that Jisung doesn't want to let go of him. 

"Jeongin," Seungmin smiles warmly, ruffling the younger boy's hair. "I haven't seen you in a while." 

Changbin, completely opposite to Seungmin's sane reaction, screeches and bounces over to Jeongin like a hyperactive spring. "Innie!" 

"Changbin-hyung!" Jeongin smiles back, just as excitedly, and then he's being tugged away from Jisung again, much to the older's dismay. 

"Bin-hyung, give me back my brother," Jisung crosses his arms when Changbin keeps him occupied for way too long.

"Sorry, sorry," Changbin says hurriedly, pushing Jeongin back towards Jisung. 

"What are you _doing_ here, bug?" Jisung asks, reaching out to straighten his little brother's bowtie. He's dressed sharply, suit jacket buttoned in the middle and new polished dress shoes on his feet. 

"Jinnie-hyung called me to tell me about the showcase, so Eomma let me skip school so I could take the train and come see you," Jeongin says brightly. "I'm so _proud_ of you, hyung." 

Felix, who looks slightly less tense now, relaxes into Hyunjin's shoulder and sighs. "I'm still mad at you for replacing me with a shrimp," he tells Hyunjin half-heartedly, to which Hyunjin responds that a shrimp is nothing compared to Felix. That seems to do the trick, because the glowy smile is back on Felix's face within the minute. 

"Oh God, you skipped _school_ for this?" Jisung groans, lifting a hand up to rub his temples. 

Jeongin's face seems to fall slightly and he looks up at Jisung with question marks in his eyes. "Why do you sound so disappointed?" 

"Because he thinks whatever he did is not worth you skipping school," Hyunjin announces, wriggling into the conversation. "Did you know I had to drag his as--sorry," he says at Jisung's glare, "butt--out of bed today because he literally almost did not go?" 

"Okay, first of all, I'm not a baby," Jeongin huffs, crossing his arms. "I'm in high school. And second of all, what the heck, Jisung-hyung?" 

Jisung sighs heavily, hanging his head. "I--this wasn't supposed to happen," he tries, gesturing. "I never meant to get into this thing. The--the piece I submitted was only meant for my professor to see." 

"I still don't get it, Jisung," Hyunjin shakes his head. "What could you have possibly painted that's so embarrassing for you?" 

Jeongin's about to say something when all of the sudden Changbin pops up next to them with an unreadable expression on his face. "I get it," he says solemnly. "I found your painting, Ji." 

Jisung feels ice freeze up his veins and frozen crystals cloud around his brain, because he can't tell what Changbin is thinking. "You...did?" he asks lamely, going for a hesitant smile. 

"What did he paint?" Hyunjin asks immediately, and Changbin shakes his head, raising his eyebrows and clearly trying not to smile at the same time. "See for yourself," he says, breaking into the grin he's failing to hold back as he walks towards a food dish. 

"Jisung?" And then everyone's attention is back on him, Jeongin's too. 

Jisung's dragged it out for long enough. He's utterly, royally screwed. And so, dejectedly, he lifts a hand and points down the hallway, starting towards it himself. "It's right there," he sighs, and he can already hear the excited chattering starting up again behind him. Jeongin sidles up next to him as they walk, and he reaches down and clasps Jisung's hand. 

"Hyung, you know I'm gonna be proud of whatever you did, right?" he asks softly, intertwining his fingers with Jisung's. "The fact that you're even in this thing makes me so, so proud of you _already_." 

Jisung smiles back at Jeongin nervously, squeezing his hand. "I love you, you know that?" 

Jeongin rolls his eyes and sticks out his tongue in mock disgust, but he squeezes Jisung's hand back. "Yeah, love you too, whatever. I guess." 

Jisung laughs softly as he looks up and stops, causing everyone behind him to nearly thud into each other. He lets go of Jeongin's hand and wipes his palm on his pant leg nervously, turning around. 

"It's here," he says, hesitant little smile on his lips as he tries not to let his anxiety win the battle of his nerves. He jabs a thumb right behind the bend of the wall and slowly, Hyunjin is the first to move. He drags Felix with him and the others follow, and Jisung shuts his eyes when he feels Jeongin move from behind him to look as well. 

For a few seconds, it's completely silent and Jisung's heart is thudding in his ears so loud he thinks he might go deaf. 

"Jisungie," Jisung hears then, and the absolute despair in Hyunjin's tone is enough to bring the lump back in his throat. "Jisungie, when did you paint this?" 

"Vending machine," Jisung says through closed teeth as an explanation. 

And then he opens his eyes, bracing himself for the worst. But only Hyunjin's looking at him, everyone else's eyes glued to the wall where his piece is hanging. 

Jisung bites his lip, and he thinks Hyunjin probably notices the fear in his eyes because his lips curl into a warm, genuine smile, and he beckons Jisung forward, wrapping his arm around the shorter boy's shoulders. 

"It's _incredible_ , babe," Hyunjin says softly, leaning his head on top of Jisung's. "It's absolutely phenomenal and _nothing_ less than that." 

"Yeah?" Jisung asks, leaning into Hyunjin slightly. The hum he gets in return is response enough for him. 

Chan is the next to turn around, something between confusion and awe written on his face. "It's amazing, Jisung, but--I don't? Understand, I guess?" 

"You wouldn't," Jisung replies softly, breathing in the scent of Hyunjin's cologne. Chan's expression morphs into softness instead, and he smiles gently. "I think it's beautiful." 

"Thank you, hyung." 

Eventually, the nerves die down and his friends wander off--the group goes in search of food, and Hyunjin leaves with his lips brushing over Jisung's forehead when a couple of people come to inspect his drawing. Jeongin, who's spent the past ten minutes completely confused about the context of the painting, compliments Jisung for the fifteenth time before hopping after Hyunjin to go eat as well. 

And then it's just Jisung and his painting, and the more he stares at it the more sick he feels. 

"Jisung?" 

Jisung whirls around, startled by the voice that's so incredibly familiar. There's no way--

Yes there is, apparently. 

Minho leans against the wall, red velvet suit pressed gently into the folds of his skin and low necked undershirt revealing jarred collarbones. There's liner on his lids again and a set of sparkling chains glittering over his chest, and nervous fingers rubbing the material of his jacket between them. There's a crooked smile on his face and a faint sheen of glitter dusted over his cheeks--and Jisung hates that his heart skips a beat and starts fluttering excitedly in his chest. 

Minho came. Minho's here. Minho had promised--Jisung hadn't expected to keep the promise, not with how much of an ass he's been lately, but here he is anyways. And then Jisung remembers his painting on the wall and he feels lightheaded all of the sudden--Minho _can't_ see it. He _can't_. 

"You--came?" Jisung's voice cracks in the middle and he winces at how bewildered he sounds, even to his own ears. 

"I, uh," Minho clears his throat uncomfortably, dropping the jacket from between his fingers and running a hand through his hair. "I made you a promise, right?" 

"I--didn't," Jisung blinks, stepping back slightly. Minho hasn't seen the painting yet. "I--" 

"You look nice," Minho interrupts, and his voice is pitched just a bit louder, just a couple of octaves higher, just the slightest bit more anxious. "I--I mean," he sighs, gesturing at Jisung. "You look really good, Sungie." 

Sungie. Jisung's stomach flutters at that again and he scolds himself internally. He's not supposed to be happy with Minho right now. 

"So do you," Jisung swallows back the lump in his throat, offering Minho a small smile. He eyes Minho again, drinking in the sight of the older dressed up as he is. 

"Hyung, I--oh," Jeongin walks up to him and stops suddenly, catching sight of Minho. He squints, then, peering at Minho closely. "Jisung-hyung, isn't that the guy in the painting?" 

Fuck. Well, shit. 

Jisung grits his teeth and plasters a smile on his face nervously, pulling Jeongin closer to him. He ignores Minho's raised eyebrow and looks pointedly away from his eyes, staring at his chapped lips instead. "This--this is Jeongin. My little brother." 

"Oh, hi," Minho smiles warmly, "I'm Minho--Jisung's--" he stops suddenly and Jisung curses at them both internally-- "friend. A friend of his." 

Ouch. 

Are they even friends still? 

"Guy in the painting?" Minho questions before anyone can say anything else, his eyebrow quirking further. Jeongin's face morphs into one of realization and he claps a hand over his mouth. 

"Oh-- _oh_ , _shoot_ \--I'm sorry!" He squeaks, "I'm gonna--go. Over there. And talk to the plant. Bye!" He dashes off, but the damage is done. 

"Guy in the painting, Sungie?" Minho asks again, and Jisung scrubs a hand over his face wearily. 

"You know, I heard the little toothpick shrimps are really good--" 

"Jisung," Minho says gently, cutting him off. "What's he talking about?" 

S-c-r-e-w-e-d. Screwed. Because that's what Jisung is. Screwed. 

"Fine," Jisung says, turning around and pointing around the corner with a flourish. "Knock yourself out, Minho-hyung." 

Minho gives him a weird, confused look before he steps slowly over to the corner. He looks at Jisung once more before he steps around the corner and Jisung moves behind him, the nausea rising in his stomach again. 

He knows the minute Minho sees it, because he draws in a breath so sharply Jisung wonders vaguely whether he's even inhaled fully. 

"That's-- _me_ ," Minho breathes out after a few seconds, and then he whirls around, looking at Jisung with an expression that he can't decipher. "Jisung, that's--you painted _me_." 

The most blatant, obvious observation of the night, but the one that hits Jisung the hardest. 

The painting is of Minho. He'd done it on impulse the night of the vending machine incident, through tears and not the most stable mindset. 

It's a sketch of Minho's face, but the right side of it's crumbling, with shards of it flying off the canvas. He's painted in strokes of pale pink and deep violet which eventually fade into black towards the edges of the face. On his painted hair rests a crown of evening primrose, pale, faded yellow and studded with imaginary thorns. From the crown a net of branches spreads into the background, like a tangled veil of roots and leaves behind painted Minho. 

"Yeah," Jisung says lamely, his tongue nearly numb in his mouth. 

Minho seems to be at a loss for words, his mouth forming letters but no sound coming from between his lips. Jisung steps next to the painting shakily, licking his lips and taking a deep breath. 

"Pink, because it means the blooms of happiness and love. The initial streak of infatuation. Purple, because it stands for power so high up it's unreachable. Violet, because the deeper the purple, the more unreachable the depth becomes. Black, because loss of color means loss of emotion. Loss of the spark. Primrose because it means confusion. Inconsistency, especially of feelings," Jisung says, words stumbling over each other. 

Minho blinks, stepping back slightly. "I--" 

"You can go," Jisung says softly, "you should--you should go." 

And Minho turns to leave and Jisung can already feel new tears building up in his eyes because it's for good this time.

" _No_!" There's a yelp and both Minho and Jisung startle, Minho freezing before he's fully turned around and Jisung completely lost. 

And then Woojin--who Jisung literally had not seen at the showcase--stamps out from around the corner with his eyebrows knotted together and frustration and anger on his face. 

" _Absolutely_ not. Both of you fuckers listen to me, and you better listen _real_ good. I'm _sick_ of you two tiptoeing your prissy little ballerina shoes around each other like you'll _explode_ if you talk for longer than five seconds. You obviously fucked up somewhere and you two better figure it out because I refuse to sit around and watch you send each other off again like the morons you are, so go sit somewhere and _don't_ come back until you _figure your shit out!_ " 

Jisung opens his mouth to talk and Minho opens his mouth to talk, both taken aback, but Woojin shakes his head firmly and points down the hallway. _"Go!"_

Minho closes his jaw and turns on his heel to leave first, and Jisung stays rooted to his spot. Well, until Woojin glares at him and points harder, and then he's up and jogging down the hallway to catch up with the heathen already exiting the show. 

Is Jisung even allowed to leave yet? He's pretty sure he's not supposed to up and leave without telling someone, but he's already out the entrance and he doesn't think he has much of a choice at this point. Minho walks around the back of the building and--it's snowing again. 

There are new flakes falling from the sky and fluttering onto the ground as Jisung follows Minho wordlessly until the older stops and sits down heavily on the back pathway, leaning against the back of the building. 

Jisung sits down next to him eventually, and the silence is deafening because neither of them open their mouths to say anything. Jisung, who's absolutely certain that he won't be the one to talk first, ends up being the one to break the silence. 

"Woojin-hyung is scary," he blurts out and immediately regrets it. 

Minho lets out a breathy laugh, though, leaning his head back. "When I was little, my mom used to tell me this scary story on Halloween about this giant monster made of mucus. Now that I think about it, though, I think Woojin-hyung would've done the trick just as well." 

It's Jisung's turn to let out a laugh, and then it's pitch silent again. "I'm sorry," Minho says quietly after a few beats. 

Jisung bites his lip, ignoring the pain slicing through it because he's already chewed it raw. "I don't understand you, Minho-hyung," Jisung says finally, releasing his lip and watching the snow land and melt as soon as it hits the concrete. "You're confusing." 

"I--" 

"I don't know what you want, ever," Jisung interrupts Minho, training his eyes on a specific spot on the concrete. "One minute I think you're gonna kiss me and the next you're calling me your best friend--you never wanted to fake break up, but when we were alone the whole fake dating thing didn't even matter. I don't get you," he repeats. "You need to help me understand what's happening." 

Minho is quiet, and then he draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them. "It's terrifying, you know?" he says suddenly, resting his chin on his knees. Jisung doesn't get the chance to ask what is, because he's talking again. "Being up really high." 

The change of subject is so abrupt, so sudden, that Jisung is at a loss for words. He doesn't know what to do first--point out that they're on the ground, or ask what that has to do with anything--or just be frustrated that Minho's still avoiding talking about it. 

"It isn't the climb," Minho continues softly, playing with the edge of shoelace. "The climb I can do. But the second I stop, I realize how high up I am and--and, well, the only thing my brain can think of is to go back down again." 

Jisung blinks, trying to comprehend what Minho's getting at. 

The snow's falling harder now, and it's collecting on the sidewalk, painting everything with a thin layer of frosty white. 

"I go back down, and when I'm far enough I start wondering why I went down in the first place, and then I climb up again. But once I'm up high, the whole cycle starts again," Minho's voice is shaking a little, and Jisung wonders whether he's imagining it. 

"So you never reach the top?" Jisung asks finally. Minho nods slightly, dropping his head further into his knees so his face is hidden. 

"Oh," Jisung says suddenly, the whole thing clicking. " _Oh_." 

He's the top. Jisung is the top of whatever tower Minho's trying to reach, and Minho never gets there because--he's scared. That's it. It's a cycle of fear and nerves and questions and wondering and then it stops and starts all over again. 

"I don't mean to back down," Minho repeats, "but I do, and I'm--I'm sorry. I've never been good with heights." He sounds small, thin, nothing like his normal strangely obliterating self. 

Jisung runs a hand through his hair gently, no doubt messing up the styling of it. It's already damp with melted snow, and he's sure the concealer he's got in is getting ruined too. 

"What if--" Jisung stops, takes a deep breath. "What if I came down, then?" 

Minho looks up and to his right quickly, his lips parted the tiniest bit and fallen snow clustered on his lashes. 

Jisung clears his throat and looks away, looks at the blankets of snow falling instead. "You're scared of the top, right? But you never asked if I could climb down and get to you instead." 

"Because that's not how it works, Sungie," Minho says thickly. "People don't climb down. You've gotta climb up." 

"Then I don't think you've met the right people," Jisung says, tone fiercer this time. "People are stupid if they don't wanna climb down. _Stupid_ ," he repeats, losing edge. 

Minho's still watching him, Jisung can feel the older's eyes settled on him. But he doesn't look, swallowing thickly again and playing with the edge of his suit. It's cold outside, it has to be because it's snowing. But it's weird, because Jisung can barely feel the bite of the chill at all. 

"No one's ever climbed down," Minho says, softer this time, barely above a whisper. "I've never met anyone who's even _looked_ down." 

Jisung feels waves of guilt wash over him when he realizes he hadn't even stopped to think about Minho this whole time. Not once. 

Jisung turns to Minho and holds out a hand, thin smile on his lips. "Nice to meet you, I'm Jisung," he says quietly. 

Minho gives a watery chuckle, taking Jisung's hand and shaking it limply. "I think you need to re-evaluate your life decisions if you're that willing to come down." 

"Believe me," Jisung says, barely above a whisper, "I've evaluated them good and good enough." 

"Jisungie," Minho shakes his head, and he's starting to curl into himself. 

"Lee Minho," Jisung says firmly, standing up and forcing Minho to look up at him, "I hope I'm reading this right, because I am madly in love with you and I hope you're gonna tell me you're madly in love with me too because if you're not then this whole situation's gonna be real, real awkward." He holds out a hand shakily, surge of confidence coming out of absolutely nowhere. 

Minho takes his hand, smile threatening to break out on his lips as he pulls himself up and stands inches away from Jisung. "Han Jisung," he says, grinning already, "I'm madly in love with you too, you disgustingly cheesy son of a bitch."

And then he leans in, but Jisung puts a hand on his chest to stop him. Minho pulls back, a little bit of hurt in his eyes, but mostly confusion shading in his face. 

"Just wanted to let you know that if you plan on running away before you kiss me this time I am going to haunt you and your children for all of eternity," he warns. 

"Tempting as that is, I'd rather kiss you," Minho grins widely, and then his lips are on Jisung's, and it's the most cliche, disgustingly domestic thing ever because they're standing in the falling snow, jacket-less but wrapped up in each other's warmth. 

Jisung's lips are still tingling when Minho pulls away, beaming, and he slips his fingers in Jisung's. 

"Can we just--not go back in?" Jisung pleads when Minho goes to pull them back inside. 

"Jisung, it's freezing," Minho chides. 

"But I'm gonna have to deal with everyone," Jisung groans. 

"Yeah, but I'll be there this time," Minho puts his hands up in a cute-in-a-gross-kind-of-way pose and Jisung sticks his tongue out, but sighs and follows Minho back in anyways, intertwining his fingers with Minho's. 

"Fucking finally!" is the first thing Jisung hears. From Hyunjin, that is. 

"Lovely," he grimaces to Minho and is rewarded with bright laughter. 

It's many, many questions and squeals later that they're back in Changbin's apartment, this time with Jisung cuddled into Minho's side for real. 

"Gross," Hyunjin sticks his tongue out at the two of them before reaching up to peck Felix on the lips. 

"What the fuck," Jisung says, with absolutely no bite behind it. 

Woojin just looks ridiculously smug every time he catches sight of them doing something remotely cute, crossing his arms as if to say 'I did that.' 

Which, he did, technically, but Jisung's not going to give him any credit if he's gonna be all smug about it. 

"You okay?" Minho looks down at him, and the situation's so oddly familiar that Jisung nearly gets goosebumps. But this time, when he looks up at Minho, there's a genuine warm smile on his lips as he nudges the older in response. 

"I'm absolutely perfect." 

-

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Happy New Year!" 

"..."

"Okay, it's been literally five minutes, stop sucking his face already, Jisung!" 

"...Hyunjin, you got off Felix literally 4 seconds ago." 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos if you made it all the way to the end of the absolute nonsensical thing this was because I'm genuinely surprised you didn't leave halfway through :D  
> twt: @darhamji


End file.
